


Fantasy Games

by Kezababez



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Awkward Romance, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Child Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, POV First Person, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kezababez/pseuds/Kezababez
Summary: May the odds be ever in your favourWhen Tifa Lockhart volunteers to take the place of her little brother in the Hunger Games, she knows she's volunteering for her brutal death.A FF7 take of the Hunger Games.1 out of 3 of the trilogy.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Reno, Tifa Lockhart/Rude, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 38
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1. The Reaping.

**Author's Note:**

> From the title, this is a Final Fantasy 7 story retelling the Hunger Games story with FF7 characters. Not a crossover. A lot of stuff from HG will be included, like the basic plot, but other stuff will be different. Like relationships, roles people play and some characters from HG will either be blended together into one FF character or completely excluded. And a few altered, deleted and added scenes. Also, I’ll be taking bits from both the books (mainly) and the films.  
> The reason why I’ve wrote this is because I’ve been re-reading the HG trilogy whilst at the same time being caught up with the Remake hype, so those two kind of blended to make this.  
> This will be written in 1st person narrative like the original but my skills in 1st person are kind of, lets say, weak. But I’ll do my best.  
> Also, there is a reason Denzel takes the Prim role and not Marlene. And I know Tifa uses no weapon but her fists, but it would be pretty hard to play the Katniss role without some kind of long range weapon, so I just stuck with the bow and arrows.  
> Don’t know any kind of upload schedule but I’ll do my best to keep them coming as soon as chapters are ready. But honestly, I wrote this for myself then decided to share. I hope I won’t abandon this but sorry in advance if I do.  
> Disclaimer - I own neither the Final Fantasy series or The Hunger Games franchise. Both belong to Square Enix and Suzanne Collins/ Lionsgate respectively. This is done out of love for both. Also I earn exactly zero cash for this.  
> Anywhoo, let’s be done with this lengthy author note and with the story.  
> Also, not beta read so apologies for any mistakes.  
> Enjoy, and if you do, please don’t be scared to comment or PM me as they are life. Nice constructive criticism and advice are also welcome. Flames will be respectfully ignored.  
> Keza

Silence is deafening.  
The town is eerily quiet outside and it is even more silent in the house I reside in. It feels like the darkness of the room is pressing on top of me, choking me, pushing my body down into the thin mattress and stopping much needed circulation. My chest feels tight and breathing is becoming hard despite the cool mountain air coming through my open window.  
Although I see nothing in the dark, my eyes stare at my ceiling. My mind races with so many thoughts and at the same time, is completely blank.  
My stomach rumbles, the lack of food making the muscles cramp and squeeze. Unable to lie here and take any more black, I roll over in bed and blindly grasp for a match, strike it over a slice of sandpaper and light the well used candle sat on my worn bedside table.  
Brightness covers me and lights the room in dim yellow. A sigh escapes from my lips as I sit up and run my fingers through my knotted hair. My digits fight with the tangles and as I feel bits of my hair snap, a gut wrenching screech echoes around the house.  
I’m on my feet immediately, grabbing my candle and I’m across the room and throwing my door open in seconds. My thin nightgown does nothing to shield me from the cold as I pound down the corridor and slam into the room where the screaming is coming from.  
My candlelight highlights the sweat running down my little brothers face. It shines on his forehead and neck and around his lips, which are open and making the shrill sound.  
I kneel by his bedside, quickly place the candle down and take his trembling body in my arms. His eyes immediately open and his screaming halts as he takes my form in and tightly hugs me back.  
“It was me, Tifa,” Denzel cries. “My name was picked!”  
I shush him with gentle sounds. “It was just a dream. A silly little dream. Your name is only in once. It won’t be you.”  
“It could be,” he whimpers, his tears soaking the front of my gown. “It will be.”  
I gently push him back slightly and take his sweaty face in my hands, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “It won’t be,” I tell him sternly. “Believe and trust me. I won’t let them take you there. Understand?”  
He nods weakly and hugs me tightly. As I run my hand reassuringly up and down his trembling back, a small knock comes from the open door.  
“All OK?” my father asks shyly, probably unsure if he should be here or not.  
I feel the skin between my eyes crease and I can’t fight the frown that appears on my face. I don’t turn to him when I tell him all is fine and that it was just a nightmare.  
“Go back to bed,” I say to him sourly. “It’s still too early.”  
There is no movement for a few seconds then I hear my father’s feet shuffle slowly back to his room. I release Denzel from our embrace and give him a small smile, one only a few have seen.  
“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says softly, looking at his own hands as they rub together.  
“Don’t be,” I say. “I understand. I was terrified my first year too. I peed myself.”  
He chuckles. “No you didn’t.”  
“OK, I didn’t. But I almost did.”  
Denzel smiles as he wipes the moisture from his dark blue eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.  
“Come on,” I gently urge, getting to my feet and force him to lay back down. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
“I know you will,” he yawns, placing his head on the pillow and closing his eyes as I cover him with the sheet. “You always are,” he ends before sleep takes him.  
I brush my palm over his brown hair and kiss his temple before I leave his room. The chill air hits me with force and the feeling of pressure overcomes my body again. Weighing me down and making my limbs heavy so they are hard to move. As I slump back to my room, I feel like I am wearing a backpack on my back, full of bricks, and with every step I take, another brick is added to the bag. A I reach my door, I know I need to get out of the house. Away from my careless father and distance myself from Denzel’s horrible dreams, if only for an hour or so.  
I quickly change into my dark green clothes, tie my hair up in it’s usual ponytail, where the end flicks almost like a dolphin tail and lace up my heavy boots.  
The sun is barely making its appearance as I get to the fence that separates the town of Nibelheim from the mountains. It should be electrified, but lack of power through the town ensures that it never is. Electricity is a luxury rarely found here. I find the usual hole I use and climb through. I don’t look back as I disappear behind trees and rocks.  
About ten minutes in, I find an unusual tree, one whose bark is split down the middle, probably one caused by lightning. The gap is enough to hide my pride and joy. Inside sits a handmade bow and quiver of arrows, one of the few things my mother left for me. My heart is heavy when I think of her. An illness took over her a few years back and we were too poor to be able to afford medicine or a doctor visit. When she passed, my father became unresponsive. He no longer went to work, barely looked after himself and eight year old me had to remind him to eat. Since then, I have had to take care of the family. No money was coming into the household, and no money equals no food, and Denzel crying due to starvation was too much for me. I couldn’t watch him wither away. So, with the aid of a close friend, I took up one of my mother's old pastimes - hunting. Extremely illegal and punishable by death if caught. Luckily, the Shinra Troops in Nibelheim are lax. They too feel the lack of food in their stomachs, and are willing to pay good Gil for a fresh pheasant or rabbit. We have a deal. They act like they haven’t caught me illegally poaching and in return, they get the meat for a lower price.  
The butchers pay the best for any meat scored. My aim is true and I normally make a clean kill, so the meat is not spoiled. I only have a small pouch of Gil left, so hopefully I can kill something big today, like a stag.  
As I walk the path up the mountain, my bow and arrow are at the ready, aimed to kill the second something makes its appearance. I spot a flash of yellow and smile. A chocobo will get me quite a lot, so I pull the string back and wait. Before I let the arrow fly, I have to quickly change my target. The arrow sinks into a tree, missing the person who stands inches from it.  
Not a chocobo, but the spiky blond hair of Cloud Strife.  
His face is momentarily shocked, bright blue eyes wide, then he grunts as he pulls the arrow from the tree. “You have bad aim,” he tells me as he hands it over.  
“Gil for _your_ meat won’t be enough to buy a single grain,” I retort.  
He scoffs and pushes past me. “You’re breaking two laws. Trespassing and poaching.”  
“Are you going to tell a Shinra Troop?” I snort. “You caught me doing something illegal whilst doing something illegal yourself. Good luck.”  
He doesn’t answer, just waves lazily over his shoulder as he leaves. I know he won’t snitch on me. Despite being known for his moodiness and lack of people skills, he has a kind soul. I usually spot him down in the markets, buying stuff he doesn’t need as an excuse to give the poor merchants some cash. I have even seen him in the area where the black market is held. He’s one of the few of us that has Gil, and I guess he tries his best to hand it out as legally as possible, since he’s banned from just giving it out.  
I try not to feel jealous. He has earned that money. Winning the Hunger Games guarantees lifetime wealth. What would it be like to be so young and to never have to worry about when your next meal will come? To know that your family will no longer have to endanger themselves just for a scrap of food. The only way I could ever feel that is if I went into the arena myself and beat the odds and win. But I never intend for that to happen. To leave my family would ensure Denzel’s death. My father would never be able to scrape enough cash to provide for himself and my brother. I’m the only one that brings anything of use home.  
I remind myself that I’m still hunting for a purpose, so cursing Cloud Strife's hair for getting my hopes up, I trek on. Halfway up the mountains and two cleanly shot pheasants later, I spot something dangling from a tree. I grin as I see that it’s a plump rabbit caught in a snare. As I untangle it, a voice comes from behind me.  
“Never took you for a thief.”  
I laugh. “You obviously don’t know me well."  
I glance over my shoulder and am greeted with a large toothy grin. Long red hair pulled into a low ponytail and eyes the colour of green melted with blue, Reno Sinclair chuckles as he comes to my side.  
“Yum,” he says as he eyes the rabbit I am still freeing from the snare. “Should be a nice meal. Or maybe it’ll fetch a good price.”  
I eye the other rabbits and one pheasant that hang from his belt. “Should be enough to fill our bellies for tonight. Today is a celebration day remember?”  
“Unless the odds are not in our favour,” he jokes.  
My eyes roll. “How many pieces of paper have your name this year?”  
“Fifty-two,” he answers without pause. “Definitely not in my favour. You?”  
I quickly add up the total of times I have had to add my name for tesserae, which is a months supply of grain, oil and clean water. You can add your name more times to the list to get tesserae, but the more times you add your name, the more chance you have to be picked for the Hunger Games. Starting from the age of twelve, your name is automatically added once, then doubled every year up until you are eighteen. So at sixteen, my name should only be in sixteen times but I’ve had to apply for tesserae so many times, I grimace as I reach my answer. “Forty-seven. I had to get double last month due to the snow.”  
“Shit girl,” he says. “And I thought we weren’t doing too bad with this illegal hunting and poaching gig.”  
“Your mother works and adds something to the household,” I reply. “My father does nothing. And I’m never letting Denzel add his name more times than needed. Never”  
Reno sighs. “How is he?”  
“Scared,” I say. “He’s been having nightmares for weeks. He’s determined to think his name is going to be reaped. There’s no chance. I’ve been trying my best to calm his worries but I feel I'm not doing enough.”  
“Strong and brave big sister Tifa Lockhart,“ Reno smiles. “Everyone should have their very own Tifa to calm them when they’re in trouble.”  
“Shut up,” I chuckle as the rabbit finally comes away from the trap. “Let's go to the lake. Watch the sun rise and moan about our miserable existences.”  
“My favourite. You know how to make a guy happy.”  
As we reach the lake, I kick off my boots and dip my feet in the water. It’s cold but soothing. As Reno sits next to me, something falls onto my lap. My eyes bulge at the sight of the bread roll. I grab it and place it under my nose and take in a deep whiff. Smells heavenly. Fresh. Still warm. Cinnamon. And is that honey I detect?  
“How did you get this?” I demand as my teeth rip through the bread. I can’t hold back a moan at the delightful taste.  
“Been saving some Gil up,” Reno replies as he tosses his own roll from hand to hand. My eyes follow it greedily. “Knew we needed something positive today. Rude managed to get me a deal. Sweet talked his mother.”  
I nod. Rude is another of Reno’s friends. I personally don’t know him but I do have one memory of him. Dark. Cold. Hunger. Desperation. I shake the thought from my head.  
“Thank you,” I say.  
He smiles and we make a toast using our rolls. “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds-”  
“-be ever in your favour,” I finish.

*

An hour later we’re back in town and heading for our homes. Reno is going to go around town and get the best deals he can from our catches. Says he’ll skin the fat rabbit for us to eat later, ‘celebrate’ another reaping gone by. As our chatter about food and Gil crawls to a stop, Reno brings up the impossible.  
“You know, we could run away. Gather our families and head for the mountains. We already supply enough food for everyone to eat. Just disappear and never have to worry about the reaping ever again. We’ll build a nice house right at the top and live happily ever after.”  
I shake my head. “They’d catch us. We wouldn’t last three days. Denzel even less.”  
He deflates. “It’s just a thought. A different out.”  
“That’s the curse for being born in Nibelheim,” I grumble. “But rather here than one of those Midgar weirdos. I wonder what fabulous get up Jenova is wearing today?”  
“Something outrageous but worth more than our belongings and homes put together,” Reno snorts. “Want to bet a squirrel what colour her wig is today?”  
“Multicoloured neon,” I joke, but wonder if it is an actual possibility. Jenova has worn way worse.  
“A woman of culture I see,” Reno says as we reach the part of the path where we split for our homes. “I bet subdued, but in a weird style.”  
“Subdued? Never in a million years.” I chuckle. With a heavy heart I give him a quick hug. “I’ll see you out there. Good luck.”  
“You too,” he whispers in my ear.  
We part and stare into each others eyes for a moment before I turn and leave. A rundown house comes into view and my dad opens the door as I get closer. His lined face is grim.  
“Denzel is ready. I’ve run you a bath. Hurry before it gets cold,” he says softly.  
I nod as I pass him. I look into the living room and see Denzel sat nervously on a stool in a clean blue shirt and his black shoes shined to perfection. His hair is parted in the middle and held down with water. I cross over to him and take him into my arms. I feel him shaking.  
“Don’t you look handsome?” I tell him. “A few more years and the girls at school won’t leave you alone. But they’ll have to answer to me first. And no first kiss until you’re at least thirty.”  
“Eww,” he mumbles, trying to stay positive. “Girls are icky.”  
“What about me?” I ask, playing along.  
“The ickiest of them all,” he declares.  
I kiss his cheek and notice that the back of his shirt is untucked, reminding me of a chocobo's behind.  
“Better tuck your tail back in little chocobo chick,” I say as I do the deed. “Don’t want you to start warking.”  
I hear our dad come up behind us and he coughs to gather my attention. “I’ve ironed your dress and put it on your bed. Best to get ready soon.”  
I pause before nodding. Wordlessly, I head to my room. In the middle is a metal tub full of luke warm water and as promised, an ugly sky blue dress lays ominously on my bed. I stare at it hatefully as I strip and lower myself into the tub. I scrub mud and grass from my skin and dirt and rabbit blood from under my fingernails. I massage shampoo through my hair and wash it off.  
I towel myself dry once I’m out and slowly put the dress on. The hem falls just above my knees. The sleeves reach my wrists and the neck is in a V shape, the tiniest bit of cleavage showing. I shove my feet into some flats, retie my hair into it’s dolphin tail, and exit the room, hoping I’ll see it again.  
Denzel and dad are waiting for me at the door. Dad gives me a quick once over and nods his approval. Reality must dawn for Denzel because as soon as he sees me, his eyes fill with tears.  
“Stay strong,” I tell him. “Don’t show them that you’re scared. We’ll get this over and done with and when we come back, I’ll invite Reno and his mother over and I’ll cook us up some nice rabbit stew. Sound good?”  
He nods and wipes his tears on his sleeve. “No crying. Got it.”  
Hand in hand, we leave the house and join every occupant of Nibelheim and head for the town square. Unless unable to due to health reasons, it is mandatory to attend the reaping. Banners with Midgars logo guide us to the centre. Everyone between the ages of twelve and eighteen gather in the middle, separated into categories by age and gender, the youngest being closer to the stage. Adults stay behind the rope, watching over the heads of all the children whose fate lie in two glass bowls on the elevated metal stage in front of the mayor’s house. A large screen is behind the stage and I watch as a cameraman perched up high swings the camera and focuses on one of the large bowls. The bowl with all female names in it. The bowl where my name is written on forty-two pieces of paper.  
Denzel and I seperate from our father, who joins the other anxiously waiting parents. We line up and confirm our names. They take a drop of blood and scan it to make sure we are who we say we are. Denzel whimpers at the sight of mine being done and I ignore people trying to move me along so I am there for Denzel when his is done. I stick my pricked finger in my mouth to stem the flow of blood and Denzel copies. Then we are seperated, me with all of the other sixteen year old girls, and Denzel at the front with the youngest boys. I lose sight of him, he is that small.  
I glance to my right, where the boys are on the other side of the town centre. Amongst the seventeen year olds, I spot Reno's bright hair. He gives me a smile. He’s in a dark grey shirt and tan trousers. Unlike the others around him, he seems at ease. His carefree smile calms me down, and my heart rate comes down a few nervous beats. Once everyone has arrived, the sparse chatter dies as a tall and thin woman walks onto the stage.  
She’s wearing a big puffy neon pink dress, high necked and hem to the middle of her thighs. Her collar is huge, white and ruffled, pearls sewn around the edges. High stilettos, expensive gems in the heels. Her skin is dyed a pale shade of blue and her eyes have bright green contacts in, her long eyelashes tipped with silver, a colour that matches her bright lipstick. Her long false nails filed into points and painted bright orange. Her hair is steel grey and tied up in complicated knots, plaits and tight curls. I glance back at Reno who mouths ‘ _You owe me a squirrel_.’  
I shake my head in humour and watch as Jenova, spokesperson for Nibelheim, crosses over to the microphone.  
“Welcome, welcome,” she says joyfully in a high pitched tone. “This year, we celebrate the seventy-forth Hunger Games! So exciting!”  
She pauses, maybe for applause, but she's met with nothing but a few coughs and some sobs. Behind her on stools sits two men. One is Cloud Strife, winner of the Hunger Games three years ago. Now seventeen, he won as the youngest ever winner at just barely fourteen. As a Victor, his presence is required, even though his name is no longer added for reaping. He looks sullen and angry, obviously wanting to be anywhere else than here. His arms are crossed tightly over his broad chest, and one of his feet taps impatiently. Despite his wealth, he is dressed modestly in a navy jumper and dark blue trousers. Next to him sits the mayor of Nibelheim, a short, wiry man who watches Jenova’s speech with large watery eyes. A chair is empty on Clouds right, where another Victor should sit. I wonder where Genesis Rhapsodos is. He’s not a Nibelheim winner, instead being a native of Junon when he won the fifty-first Hunger Games at age eighteen. Since Nibelheim’s only Victor before Cloud died about ten years ago, Midgar sent us Genesis to tutor our tributes every year. But despite us now having a native born Victor, he remains here.  
Jenova shrugs off the cold reception and continues. “Before we begin, Midgar has put together a delightfully special video for you all to watch.”  
She steps back and the video we are shown every year plays on the screen behind her. I tune out President Shinra’s voice. I have heard his speech too many times that I know if by heart. How all towns and villages rose up and ‘betrayed’ the capital named Midgar. How rebellions started across the world to fight against a City who ‘loved’ and ‘cherished’ them. How Midgar fought back and won and as punishment, one girl and one boy from every twelve towns must be sacrificed for an event called The Hunger Games. An arena where those twenty-four children fight to the death until there is one standing. One proud Victor.  
The Games started simple and as intended, just a punishment. But over the years, it has been treated as a joyful event for the people of Midgar. They treat it like a reality game show, where kids being murdered is amusing and fun. They place bets and sponsor tributes who they like and want to win. It’s sickening. It’s a mandatory watch for everyone. If your child is in that arena, you have to watch them fight and bleed and most likely be killed in the most horrible way. I am never having children. I will not be responsible for putting an innocent child through what I am going through now, what Denzel is going through. What every Victor has to live with for the rest of their lives.  
The film ends with the anthem and there is hushed silence as Jenova goes over to the bowl holding the boys names. Every year it swaps with what gender they start with. If it starts with the boys, a girl can volunteer to take their place. Then the girls bowl is not used and another male name is picked. The same can happen if the reaping starts with the girls where a boy can volunteer to take her place. Very rarely when this happens does the same name come out of the bowl. There as never been a volunteer for Nibelheim.   
Just as Jenova is about to place her orange clawed hand in the bowl, a loud crash comes from the mayor's house. All eyes leave the bowl and move to the screen, where a man has come crashing through the middle of it, ripping a hole large enough to split the screen in half.  
Genesis Rhapsodos stumbles onto the stage, clearly drunk and donning a sparkly red suit. Laughing, he reaches out and grabs Jenova by her shoulders, yanks her to him and gives her a sloppy kiss on the mouth. She pulls back with a shriek as Genesis flips off all the camera’s, screams “Fuck you Midgar!” and promptly head dives off the stage and proceeds to snore as he sleeps.  
Nervous laughter flitters over the crowd. Some find real humour in the display, others are furious or embarrassed as the reaping is being shown live everywhere. Genesis has just shown Nibelheim up in front of the whole world. Everyone is going to see this and make a huge joke out of this. Midgar is going to be pissed.  
The mayor gets up from his stool, but Cloud grabs his arm and pulls him back down. “Leave him there,” he says in a strong voice, his tone clear that he’s sick of being sat on the stage. “The bastard deserves it.”  
He turns and nods to Jenova, silently indicating for her to continue. She adjusts her hair, brushes her dress down and gives her shoulders a little shake.  
“Back to the reaping,” she says loudly, but you can tell by her voice that she is shaken by what has just occurred. I glance at Reno again and I can tell he is doing his best to not laugh out loud, biting his fist as his shoulders shake. I try my hardest not to laugh too, using my hand to cover my beaming mouth.  
The grin on my face soon vanishes as Jenova reads the name she has just taken out of the bowl.  
“The male tribute for Nibelheim is, Denzel Lockhart!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who may be wondering what the romantic pairs are, then this story hasn’t really got any, since I’m not completely copying the Peeta/Katniss/Gale triangle. Nothing until I cover Catching Fire (if I do it). But there are a few hints to some romances. Such as:  
> One-Sided Rude/Tifa  
> Complicated mutual Reno/Tifa  
> Complicated mutual Cloud/Tifa  
> And mentions of mutual Zack/Aerith

My eyes widen in shock and horror.

No!

No no no no no no no.

This _cannot_ be happening. Another name was read out, not my brothers. This is a nightmare. I pinch my arm and my legs turn to jelly when I feel the sharp pain. 

All heads are turned towards the front where Denzel is stood. All heads apart from Reno, who stares at me. I ignore him, pushing my way through the crowd of girls around me. I reach the gap which separates us from the boys at the same time that Denzel has reached the first step leading to the stage. 

Denzel’s shirt untucks from his waistband as he reaches for Jenova’s outstretched, blue dyed hand. I whisper his name as I walk towards him. A Shinra Troop blocks my path but I have to get past him. I have to get to my brother.

“Denzel! Denzel!” I scream over the Troopers shoulder. Another one joins the first and they try pushing me back. I fight against them and break through between them, almost tripping over in my haste to get to my little brother. Denzel’s eyes are wide in fear as he turns to me. I don’t even think as the words pass my lips in desperation. “I volunteer! _I volunteer_! I volunteer as tribute!”

“Tifa, no!” Denzel shouts at me, running to me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I fall to my knees and return the crushing embrace. “No you can’t!”

“Go back to dad,” I encourage him in a quick mutter. “Go back to him now, Den.”

Two sets of hands grab my shoulders and pull me to my feet. Denzel sticks to my side, his arms locked tightly around me. He’s screaming, crying and kicking at the Troopers trying to reach for him.

“Tifa, no! Please!”

“I believe we have a volunteer,” Jenova calls joyfully, the microphone loud enough to mask Denzel’s pleading. “Come up here young lady.”

I can’t move, Denzel has dug his feet into the ground and the Troopers are having a difficult time dislodging him. “Tifa! Tifa! Please! No! Don't do this!”

Suddenly his arms are ripped from me and I turn and watch Reno grather my brother in his arms and carry him away, to the back of the crowd where he falls into my father’s arms, still screaming. Reno turns and just stares me, pain evident all over his face.

Shaking, I push the Troopers off me as I start down the path towards the stage. My hearing has gone muffled and the edges of my sight have gone dark and blurry. Despite walking forward, the stage is getting further and further away from me. My heart thuds deeply with every weak step I take. Soon, too soon, my feet are climbing the steps of the stage. My feet echo on the metal. 

Jenova gently grabs my arm and pulls me into the middle of the stage, the microphone directly in front of my lips. “A volunteer. What’s your name dear?”

As if she didn’t hear it shouted and screamed by Denzel moments ago.

I open my mouth and stutter out my full name. Is this my name? Another girl must have taken over my body. I shouldn’t be here. I cannot believe I am standing where I am. But it’s real. I’m a part of the Hunger Games. I’m going to train in Midgar. I’m going into the arena. 

I am going to die.

“Tifa Lockhart,” Jenova echoes. “How lovely. Was that your brother just now?”

I look over the crowd and lock eyes with Denzel. He is still crying but he is no longer screaming or wailing. In my mind I am telling him that I am OK. That I am not scared or about to faint. That I’ll be home soon and ready to make that rabbit stew like promised. All lies.

“Yes,” I reply to Jenova. “That . . . yes, Den, my little brother.”

Jenova laughs and her breath smells like the wild strawberries that I collect in the summer. They’re Denzel’s favourite. “Let’s have a round of applause for Tifa Lockhart.”

Not a single person puts their hands together to clap. Instead, they do something that shocks me. They kiss the three middle fingers of their right hand and raise it high in the air. Not a word is spoken. This is a sign of respect. I am the girl who risks her life to bring meat back for starving children. The girl whose mother was widely loved and respected. The girl who is Nibelheim’s first ever volunteer. 

Jenova doesn’t seem to know what to do, so she guides me to the side and slides back over to the boys bowl. Denzel only had one name in there. He won’t be chosen again. That’s the only relief I have. 

The hands of the crowd lower when Jenova speaks again. “Well, we have our female tribute, now time again for our boy.”

  
I close my eyes and whisper, “Please, not Reno.” I probably will faint if my best friend’s name is read from that paper.

  
I keep my eyes shut as Jenova makes a show of swirling the papers around the bowl, pick one out and open it. I feel her pass as she moves to the microphone and says the name of the poor boy whose fate has also been decided for him.

“Rude Freeman!”

My eyes shoot open and scan the crowd for the dark skinned boy. His eyes and mouth are open in shock. It takes a few of the boys around him pushing him for him to move. As he is walking to the stage, I recall the one encounter I have with this usually silent boy.

It was not long after my mother had died. We needed food, we needed money, we needed _anything_. I was out all day and night in the pouring rain, trying to sell some of Denzel’s old baby clothes. I begged, bartered and cried but no one was interested, especially later in the day when the non stop rain ruined the clothes. 

I was so hungry, so thin and weak that when a stronger than usual gust of wind passed through town, it pushed me to the ground, sending the clothes into the dirt. I remember sobbing for the ruined garments but didn’t reach for them. I only had enough strength to sit up and lean against a wooden post. 

Suddenly, yellow light washed over me and I felt something smack the back of my head. “Get out of here. Go away. I swear, trash like you should die in the gutter where you belong!”

Looking up, I met the angry gaze of a tall dark skinned woman in a white apron, broom in hand. A boy the same age as me watched from behind his mother’s skirt. Not wanting to be hit again, I crawled a few meters away from the woman's house, a building which I realised later was the bakery. I fell against a tree and sent a glare at the woman’s retreating back. Once again I locked eyes with the boy before he went back inside too. 

My tears mixed with the rain, sending clean lines down my dirty cheeks. I had nothing. My father refused to get out of bed. My brother was so thin, he was a skeleton. I failed them. Failed to protect my brother, even though I had promised my mother I would look after him. 

I remember just wishing I would die there and then. I couldn’t face going back home empty handed. Couldn’t look at Denzel's gaunt face as his hope turned to disappointment all because I had come back empty handed. Knowing that any day soon he, or myself, would never see another morning. 

The door of the bakery opened again and I looked up, thinking the woman was coming back to yell at me some more. I could hear screaming. But she was yelling at the boy, sending spit all over his face. Before she stormed back inside, she hit him over the head, the sound of the slap making me wince. 

The boy turned and started throwing bread inside of the pig pen. I wanted to be one of those pigs. They were so well fed. The boy didn’t even look at me as he threw a full loaf of bread on the ground a few yards in front of me then went back inside. What?

Did he accidentally throw it the wrong way? Did he not want to get wet by facing the rain and fetch the bread back? Or maybe, just maybe, did he do it on purpose?

The bread looked fine, just a little burnt on one side. Perfectly edible. But not sellable. Whether he intended it or not, this boy had thrown me a lifeline. Literally saving my family's life. I ran to the bread with the little strength I had and ran home, before the woman found out what her son had done for me. That loaf of bread lasted three days when rationed. Without it we surely would have died. Without it, I would have died before I met Reno, who showed me the gap in the fence, who taught me how and where to hunt and what plants were edible and which were not. 

I was now able to provide for my family, keep them alive, fill their bellies with food and Gil in their pockets. All because one boy took pity on a poor girl in the rain one night. All because of some burnt bread. 

Rude joins me on the stage. He hasn’t looked at me once the whole time he was coming up the steps. I want to thank him. Tell him in some way how grateful I am to him. He had no reason to do what he did for me. In some dumb way, I want to volunteer for him too. But when volunteers are asked for, the crowd is silent. 

“Excellent” Jenova grins, clapping her blue hands together. “There we have it, ladies and gentlemen. Nibelheim’s tributes for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Tifa Lockhart and Rude Freeman! Go on you two, shake hands.”

We lock gazes as we lock hands. He doesn’t seem to recognise me. Why should he? He threw me that bread eight years ago. Why should he remember? 

His eyes are a dark rich brown, his black hair so short, you can see his scalp. He is tall with muscles, probably from hauling flour everyday. His fingers are strong and warm against mine. When we part, we are joined on stage by Shinra Troops and ushered into the mayor's house. I get one final glimpse of the watching crowd as the large oak doors shut behind us. 

Rude and I are separated into different rooms so we can meet our loved ones one last time before we are hauled on a train and taken to Midgar. 

The room is large and lavish. The plush carpet under my feet makes my steps springy. The walls are decorated with beautifully painted portraits of people and landscapes. An eighteen point head of a stag is hung on the wall, and I naturally wonder how it was taken down and how much meat was on it. 

As I stare into it’s dead eyes, the door opens and Denzel and dad enter. Den immediately flies into my open arms.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “Why did you do that? Tifa, why?”

“I had to,” I quickly tell him, knowing we don’t have long. “I promised you. Told you I'd never let you go into that arena. Listen Den, look after each other OK? Stay close to Reno. He’ll get you food and money. He’ll look after you. Maybe teach you how to hunt if you ask. And _never_ put your name more times for the Games. It’s not worth it. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” Denzel sobs. “I promise.”

I look up to my father and his eyes, same ruby red colour as my own are as blank as the dead deer’s. “Don’t you dare,” I snarl at him, jolting some reaction out of him. “Don’t you dare block everything out again. Not like when mum died. You need to be there for Denzel. You’re all he has left now.”

“I know,” he mutters, running a hand down his face and through his greying beard. “I’ll be there for him. I won’t let him down.”  
I pull him into my arms. “Be a father for once in your life.”

I immediately regret those words and don’t want them to be my last to him, but the door opens and a Trooper is telling them to leave. Denzel hugs me again.

“You better win,” he tells him. “You have to.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll win it for you. I promise. Remember what I-”

I don’t finish my sentence as the door slams shut and I’m forever parted from them. Exhausted emotionally, physically and mentally, I fall into the soft cushions of the sofa behind me, but I immediately spring back up as the door opens again. 

Reno and I meet each other halfway across the room and grab one other in a bone crushing hug.

“Don’t let them starve,” I beg. “Please don’t leave them. Please.”

“I won’t,” he assures me. “I’ll be there for them. They won’t go hungry. I promise you. And you’ll see that when you return. Because you will return, Tifa. You are going to win this.”

“I can’t win against twenty-three others, Reno,” I say. “Only one comes out and it won’t be me.”

  
“It _will_ be you,” he demands. “You’re smarter, faster, more skilled than they are. Get yourself to a bow. Do what you do best. They’re just prey now. You can’t think of them as people.”

  
I visualize my arrow going through someone's eye and have to fight back the vomit that fights its way up my throat. Has he met Rude too? Told him something similar? They are friends after all. I guess I’ll have plenty of time to ask Rude this in person. 

“I’ll try,” I whisper as our foreheads touch. “I’ll try my best.”

Our lips are so close that I am breathing in what he breathes out, our eyes locked and unblinking. I lick my dry and chapped lips and want to say and do more, but the door opening again forces us to pull apart. Reno doesn’t fight when told to leave. He levels me with a knowing look, and I nod before I’m left alone in the room again. 

Not long after Reno, I receive one last visitor. The small grey eyes of my martial arts instructor lock onto me. He is short and plump but the best fighter I have had the pleasure to meet. Due to some of the male Shinra Troops trying to be, let's call it _handsy,_ with the young girls in the town, Master Zangan decided to teach the girls and some boys, some basic defense techniques. Small moves that would both stop a Trooper from touching you, but not enough to be in trouble for attacking a Trooper. Calling me a star pupil, I received more advanced training. If there is anything that can top my archery skills, it’s my hand to hand combat. 

“Tifa,” he says, his voice deep and sombre. 

I fall naturally into his arms, like I should have with my father. But this man has done more for me in my life than my father has. “Master.”

“I am so proud of you. So very proud. What a brave thing you have done.”

I feel tears leave my eyes. “I don’t feel brave. I’m so scared.”  
“You are my best pupil,” he says, taking my face in his broad hands. “The very best. I have faith that you will return to us. Let no one tell you otherwise. Believe in yourself. You are so talented, my girl.”

“I’ll remember everything you taught me,” I whisper. “Can you teach my brother some stuff? I won’t be around to do it myself.”

He smiles sadly. “For you? Anything. I’ll teach the boy everything I know.”

My mouth words _thank you_ instead out loud because my throat has seized up. Words and sounds refuse to pass my lips. Master Zangan kisses my forehead, takes my hands in his and gives them a squeeze. Too soon, he is called to leave and I am alone. 

I refuse to show weakness as I am taken to the train so I wipe my tears, straighten my back and lift my chin proudly. This Nibelheim tribute will not be seen as pathetic. She will be seen as someone who believes she can win this.

Rude and I meet in the hallway and immediately are taken through the back entrance. No one is around here but I can hear the talk from the square. All families aside from two have gone back to their daily routines. People will give them privacy for the rest of the day, then say their condoloses the next. 

Cameras are forced in our faces but a Trooper barges past them and the cameramen make a path for us. At the single station, a long and sleek train waits for us. We board and I instantly feel dirty. I do not belong anywhere so clean, elegant and high tech. Polished walls and beautiful carpet. Everything seems to sparkle. I see that it does when I glance up and a crystal chandelier hangs above us. 

A table filled with all kinds of food sits in the middle of the room we are in. Fruits, berries, meats, soups and stews. Cutlery made of fine silver and gold. As we are guided forward, we stumble as the train begins to move. 

“No good staring at it,” a male voice says. Cloud Strife pushes past us and sits down on a heavily cushioned chair at the table and grabs a large bunch of bright green grapes. He looks at us as he pops one in his mouth. “It’s not illegal to sit and eat.”

My eyes never leaving the mouth watering food, Rude and I step forward at the same time and take a seat at the table, next to each other and directly opposite Cloud. Rude wastes no time ladling some soup in a bowl, but I can’t seem to lift my arms to touch any of it. They are too heavy and I am spoilt for choice. Never has this much food been placed in front of me. Since I have always struggled for food, and sometimes punished for getting some in unorthodox ways, I feel like my hands will be chopped off if I even dare to take something from the table. Rude and Cloud both must see my reluctance as they each hand me something. Rude the soup and Cloud a basket of freshly baked white rolls. I mindlessly take both and lower my head in embarrassment, feeling my cheeks burn red. 

“So, what now?” Rude asks as he takes a second bowl. “What do we do?”

The soup is warm and delicious with chunks of carrots and potatoes in it. It tastes like nothing I have had before so I can’t name what it is. It may be beef. I lap up as much broth as I can with the bread and know I’ll be needing more pretty soon. 

I hear Cloud chuckle. “Try not to die,” he answers.

I look up and watch him continue to eat his grapes. His answer makes me want to shove them violently down his throat. “You win this and the only advice you can give us is the obvious?” I snarl. “You’re our mentor!” He glares and I notice the illuminous green in his blue eyes. Unusual colours for Nibelheim.

“What’s the point?” another man asks. 

We’re joined at the table by Genesis and Jenova. Jenova doesn’t seem pleased to be sat next to the man who crashed her reaping ceremony. Genesis seems to have sobered up a little but he doesn’t seem to want it for too long as he reaches for something bright blue and alcoholic.

“What do you mean what’s the point?” Rude snaps, his quiet tone rising. “Your job is to keep us alive and tell us how to get sponsors.”

“I’ll rate both of your odds at very low,” Genesis says, flicking auburn hair from his face. “I’m not even going to waste my time or effort with either of you.”

  
He extends his hand forward for an apple but before he can reach it, I grab my knife and ram it point down between his splayed fingers and at the same time, Rude has knocked his drink out of the other hand. The only sounds are the glass smashing against the wall and Jenova’s surprised gasp. 

“This is _mahogany_!” she screeches. 

Genesis leans back and observes us long and hard, then a tiny smile turns up one side of his mouth. “Oh,” he says in mild amusement. “Have we finally been given a couple of fighters this year? Interesting.”

My glare switches between Genesis and Cloud, the latter uncaring as he butters a roll with cheese baked on top. Genesis grabs the apple before he can be interrupted again and it crunches as he takes a large bite. 

“Spend today resting and filling up,” he comments. “Looks like you both need it. Tomorrow we’ll get started.”

“Also, it may help to clean up your attitudes,” Cloud adds with a touch of humour, his eyes mainly on me. His voice turns to mimic Jenova’s posh accent.“Midgar just _hates_ bad manners.”

  
Jenova scoffs as the blond leaves the table, Genesis with his apple and the whole bottle of alcohol follow moments later. 

I’m shaking and seething with anger. Appetite lost, I push the half empty bowl of soup away from me and glare out of the window. The mountains of Nibelheim fly past us at an alarming speed. In the distance, a flock of bright yellow chocobo run by. I wonder if Reno is already out there, hunting for both his family and now mine. I wish I was out there with him instead of inside of this beautifully decorated carriage. I am more at home covered in dirt and surrounded by trees than crystal and silk.

Unable to sit here any longer, I stand. Jenova sees this as a sign and gets to her feet too. “I’ll show you to your room. You’ll love it.”

  
I hate it. With it’s too clean floor and walls decorated with intricate designs. The bed is large and has not one but two thick and soft covers. The bed is springly and heated. Across from the bed is a wardrobe, in it hangs beautifully tailored shirts, trousers, bras and underwear. I take a pair of pristine pale pink pyjamas and carry them through with me to the bathroom.

I strip bare and get into the shower. There are so many knobs, buttons and valves, it takes me a minute to get the water running, and when I do, I’m pleasantly surprised that the water is hot. I’m so used to luke warm baths that I feel I can stand here forever. 

All of the buttons squirt out varying scented soaps. I choose strawberries as they remind me of Denzel. 

I wonder what he is doing now. It has only been an hour or two since the reaping so he may have locked himself in his room and is either crying or destroying it. Alone, I finally let my tears flow. Within seconds, I’m sobbing and wailing, pounding the tiles with my fists. I have to stop when I break a tile and a shard pierces my palm. 

Blood runs across my wrist and down my arm. The sharp shard is very thought provoking as I watch the gore swirl around then disappear down the drain. What would they do if only one tribute arrived at Midgar instead of the expected two? Would they go back and quickly reap another girl? Would they even honour my family and take my body back to Nibelheim? Would they punish my family for my actions? All of these outcomes make me shut off the shower and get out. 

I find a small medical kit in a cabinet under the sink and bandage my hand up. I have to at least try to win. My pride won’t let me try something so stupid. So cowardly. So selfish. 

Drying my body and changing into pyjamas, I crawl onto the bed, intending not to leave the room for the rest of the day. Suddenly, exhaustion hits me like a truck. And I’m asleep the second my head hits the fluffy pillows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rude has no canon surname (I believe) so I named him after his English voice actor, Crispin Freeman. Also, Reno’s surname is Sinclair in here. If you have read Lockhart007 which is on FanFicNet under the same author name, I did the same since not only did it suit him, but at the time, everyone seemed to give him that name. So I jumped on the bandwagon and rolled with it. He suits it too much for me to change it here.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up to insistant knocking on my door. My limbs are tangled in the sheets, my hair is trying its hardest to be as knotted as can be and I feel dried drool on my left cheek and around my mouth. The wet patch on the pillow confirms it. 

“Rise and shine!” Jenova calls happily. “Bright and early for breakfast. We’re busy busy busy today.”

Morning already? I’ve slept almost all of yesterday and all of last night. My bladder hates me for it because as soon as my eyes adjust to the light, it screams for the release of pressure. 

I freshen up in the bathroom and blindly pick out underwear and clothes from the wardrobe. I’m donning a comfortable grey jumper and a pair of light blue jeans. I slip on the flats I wore during the reaping and exit my room and head back to the compartment that we had food in yesterday. And like yesterday, the table is covered in fruits, cereals, pastries and toast. My feet automatically follow the wonderful smells. 

Everyone else is already seated. Jenova delicately buttering a slice of toast, Cloud writing something on a small notepad, Genesis reading a book titled Loveless and Rude, my fellow tribute, is loading assorted pastries on his plate. 

As I sit, someone fills my glass with orange juice and as I look up to thank them, I recoil and shudder. This must be an Avox, a being I’ve heard a lot about but have never met until now. Avox are people who wronged Midgar so badly, usually desertion or defiance, that they have been forced into servitude. But before that, they have their tongues ripped from their mouths. I’ve been told that some even have all their teeth pulled. This is an act to embarrass the person and leave an example to the towns and cities around the world. _Along with making your children kill one another, we can find other ways to torture and humiliate you_. The thought makes me even angrier at Midgar and anyone who lives and works there. The poor red haired Avox boy must have seen me recoil, as a flash of despair crosses over his face and he hastily leaves the compartment before I even think to apologise. 

“So,” Rude begins the conversation. “How do we survive and get sponsors?”

“As well as being skilled with weapons and becoming a wild killing machine?” Genesis says, not even looking up from his book. “You become likable.”

“Likable?” I ask. “Being liked isn’t going to stop an axe slicing me in two.”  
“Being liked will make a sponsor want to give you medicine after you get _wounded_ by that axe,” Cloud adds. “Being liked will gain you food, medicine and even weapons if they really like you. Having generous donors is the only reason Yuffie Kisaragi won last year.”

I remember last year's Games. Yuffie of Wutai was young, hyperactive and feisty. Midgar loved her. In the arena, she showed how skilled with a shuriken she was. But most of her donations were from the people of Wutai since she was related to a powerful man there. That was how she earned the nickname The Princess of Wutai. I can’t imagine people wanting me to win so badly that they send me expensive weapons or armour. 

“Neither of you had sponsors,” Rude accuses them.

“I am _very_ skilled with a sword and Cloud got protection not only from the stronger kids,” Genesis smiles as he looks at the blond. “But because he was so damned cute, nobody wanted to hurt him. He only got lucky in the end.”  
“Fuck off,” Cloud grunts, but there is a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Be likeable and cute,” I say sarcastically. “Got it. What else?”

“Depends. Do you want to be taught together or separately?” Cloud asks. Rude and I share a brief glance before turning back to him. “The person sat next to you is not your friend. The moment you were confirmed as tributes, they became your enemy. It’s up to you if you want to show each other your strengths and weaknesses.”

“I know Tifa’s strengths,” Rude says, surprise jolting me like lightning. “She’s great with a bow and arrow and she’s the best in Zangan's martial arts classes.”

The surprise dims in me. Everyone knows I’m good at those two skills, it’s not a big secret. But I hate that he’s throwing my information around so freely. “Rude is amazingly strong,” I retaliate. “I’ve seen it. He hauls large bags of flour around like it’s nothing. And he got first place in the boys judo tournament last year.”  
“That’s great for me if a sponsor sends me a bag of flour,” Rude grunts. “I’m sure the other tributes will shake in their boots when they see how many cakes I can bake with it.”  
“And I’m sure I can punch someone in the face before they stab and slice me to pieces,” I snap back. “Beware everyone, Tifa can give you a very bad nosebleed!”

“Separate it is,” Genesis sighs, taking a sip of his drink which actually isn’t alcoholic. “Then it’s a good thing we drew lots last night to see which of you we would take on.”

I hear Cloud scoff. “More like who can drink more got to choose,” he mumbles.

I take a closer look at him. There are black bags under his eyes, his spiky hair is limp and frizzy and there’s the beginnings of a light shade of stubble around his jaw. I notice there is nothing on his plate and the only drink he has is a bottle of hangover syrup. I smirk and make sure my voice is a few octaves louder than normal. 

“Fine,” I say, really hoping I don’t get Cloud. Out of the two of them, I think Genesis will be more bearable and I’m less likely to want to strangle him. Also, he’s the only one who has trained a tribute that has survived the Games. Alas, no such luck.

“You are with me,” Genesis says, pointing at Rude who nods. His dark blue eyes turn to me. “And you’re with Mr sunshine and happiness there.”

“Yey,” Cloud mock cheers as he takes a swig of more syrup. “We’re going to have so much fun, trust me sweetheart.”

I grimace at the endearment. “It’s Tifa,” I demand. “Not T, not Teef. Tifa. The whole thing.”

“Oh God,” Cloud groans, throwing his head back. “You’re making me wish I died in that arena. Better yet, open a door. I’ll fling myself off this train and hope I get caught under the tracks.”

“A match made in heaven.” Genesis snorts. 

*

“That’s the pin you wore during your Games,” is the first thing I say once we’re alone at the table. Genesis took Rude off to talk and Jenova went somewhere, muttering about a schedule. Cloud looks at me in confusion. So I elaborate. “The wolf pin. You wore that when you won.”

I nod at his shirt. On the collar sits a golden pin of a wolf head. I only just noticed it but I immediately recognise it. From being picked as tribute and all throughout his own Hunger Games, Cloud wore that pin. It was that pin and his young age, plus being the youngest tribute that year that earned him the nickname The Wolf Pup, usually just shortened down to The Pup. When he won, the people of Midgar made the pin a fashion symbol. My guess is that the wolf is based off the legend of the Fenrir wolf. 

The Fenrir wolf is an old myth that is popular and well known in Nibelheim. On a day that the sun would refuse to rise, the Fenrir would awaken and judge the evil against the good. If evil outweighed the good, Fenrir would tear the whole world apart, leaving nothing in its path. Then when all was gone, it would destroy itself and the Earth would be reborn from its ashes. If deemed good, the sun would rise again the moment Fenrir shut its eyes for sleep. 

“It belonged to my father,” Cloud explains. “My parents had me young at seventeen. I was only a few months old when he was reaped. He wore this pin back then and got the name Lone Wolf because he stayed by himself and killed anyone in his path. He was apparently the favourite to win but the last person in his way was too strong. This pin is the only thing of his my mother got back. She gave it to me on the morning of my first reaping and I’ve worn it every year since. Everytime I go to Midgar with new tributes, they demand I wear it.”

I somehow feel honoured that he has shared this little bit of his life with me. So I share a little bit of mine. “My mother died when I was eight. She was the only one who knew medicine and healing so my father had no idea what to do when she got really bad. We were too poor to get help and she died one night after a bad seizure. My dad, he shut down, so I became the head of the family. Denzel swore to never let anyone else suffer the way we did, so he taught himself medicine and he helps the sick when possible for free or for little favours.”

“I can see,” he says, nodding at my still bandaged hand. Now that he has brought my injury to my attention, I feel the throbbing sting of pain. “A handless blind monkey could have done that better.”

I turn away. “It did its job.”

“How bad is it?” 

“Just a small slice,” I admit. “I punched a wall and it punched me back.”

He lets out a real, joyful laugh. “Come on,” he grins. “I’m feeling generous. I’ll fix it before we land in Midgar.”

I follow him to his own room and it is almost a twin on my own. The difference being is the hand drawn pictures all over the walls. Wonderful drawings of animals and plants, scenes like people working at the market, at the steel house and children playing on the well. Then there are also horrible things like hands covered in blood, a person with a spear lodged in their abdomen and someone with a charred face. 

I turn, sickened by the pictures. These must be drawn from Clouds memories. Things he has seen and experienced. The good from Nibelheim, the bad from his time in the Games. My skin crawls with the knowledge that I too will experience these things. That it could be me with the burnt face or the one who skewers an innocent with a spear. 

I don’t realise I’m crying until a thumb wipes them away from my cheeks. Cloud pulls back, maybe shocked by his own kind actions and leads me to the bathroom. He runs the tap and holds his hand out to take mine. He gently unwraps the bandage and I wince as the cloth pulls at the wound and a trickle of blood runs down into the sink.

Cloud turns my hand to look at the cut. “Not too bad. Nothing that can’t be healed.”

After running my hand under the water, he reaches around a shelf above the sink and takes out a small tub of bog green cream. When he opens the lid I recoil from the putrid smell. Cloud’s grasp around my wrist stops me from running out the room.

“Stop being a baby,” he chastises. “It smells like shit but works wonders for cuts. Thank yourself very lucky if someone sends you this when you’re in that arena.”

He slathers a thin layer of it over the wound and I watch as the cut already begins to close. I watch in fascination as the pain begins to subside. 

“Wash it off in about thirty minutes and you’ll be all healed” Cloud instructs, putting the cream back. “We can’t have you turning up looking like you can’t wait to bash someone's head in.”

“Would do wonders to intimidate the competition though,” I giggle. As he washes his hands, I softly mutter, “Thank you.”

“I’m not that terrible of a mentor you know,” he grins, and it looks beautiful on his face. This is the first time that I’ve noticed how handsome he is, even if he is still feeling the effects of a major hangover. I know I’m blushing so I change the subject.

“Your drawings are good. You’re really talented.”

He looks unsure when he answers. “Everyone expects you to have some unique talent once you win. Genesis chose acting and I found that I liked drawing so he encouraged it. I took some lessons and ta-da! Art.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the pad he was writing in at the table. He flicks through the pages and lands on one in the middle. A bit sheepishly, he hands it to me.

I’m initially taken aback as I look into my own face. Cloud has perfectly captured every detail. My long hair with its dolphin flick, the thinness of my face, the set of my jaw, my tense muscles as I draw the string back of my bow, arrow set to fly. I immediately recognise it as our brief encounter up the mountains yesterday morning before the reaping. Back when my biggest worry was getting enough food.

He hasn’t finished yet, just has guidelines for the rest of my body. I can already tell he’ll have my body proportions correct, especially my slim waist and my larger than most chest. I blush as I hand it back. 

“I don’t make for a good picture,” I tell him. “But again, it’s wonderfully drawn.”

He scoffs. “Do you use your mirror or do you use it for decoration?”

My reply is cut off by Jenova entering the room. I jump back from Cloud like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn't. The mere thought sets my face aflame. 

“We’ll be there in two hours,” Jenova says in a strict tone. “I want you all ready for departure. Wear your best. And yes Cloud, you are wearing that jacket. Wolf fur is not cheap. I will sew it to your skin if I have to.”

She leaves with her head held high in the air. Cloud growls as he glares at his wardrobe.

“I have to see this jacket,” I taunt.

“You will when we leave,” he replies. “And ingrain the image in your brain because it’s getting burnt the first moment I get.”

  
Silence lingers between us and when neither of us breaks it, I decide it’s my cue to leave. I hand back his notepad and leave his room for my own. Jenova has already hung a royal blue dress for me to wear. High necked and hem mid thigh length. A triangle shaped hole is cut out from the front, so when worn it will show off a sizable portion of cleavage. A belt of gold discs is next to it and underneath are a pair of high heeled shoes the same colour as the dress. I pick up a shoe and examine the length of the heel. Maybe five inches. I pray for my poor ankles and begin to strip, hoping a warm shower can help curve my nerves. 

It does nothing but make me feel a little cleaner. As promised, the cut on my hand has completely healed. I can’t even see where the slice was, my skin has knitted back perfectly. It even has toned down a few scars and calluses that I’ve received over the years. I wonder how much I would need to cover all of the marks across my body. 

I leave my hair down in the hopes that it will cover my nervous face once the cameras are on me. I have to make them like me. So maybe I should smile and wave, maybe blow a cheeky kiss and wink. The out of character thought makes me dizzy. No, I can't do that. In this dress I already look promiscuous, so I can’t act like it either.

Just a small smile and a little wave should do. No one can really expect me to be enjoying this, can they? Oh yes, I just love being sent to fight for my life. Can’t get enough. Want to bet on how I’ll be gruesomely killed? Go ahead. As long as you’re having _fun_!

I take my anger out on my hair, brushing it so hard and feel more than a few strands rip from my scalp. The dress is easy to put on, just over my head and shimming it down my body. The belt fits a little too well for my skinny frame. There are matching earrings but since I don’t have any piercings, I’m not using the earrings to make a hole for them. Jenova will have to deal with it. 

The heels are easy to slip on but almost impossible to walk in. I wobble just standing still and my ankle bends painfully at the first step. In frustration, I like them off. I’ll walk barefoot, I don’t care. I’ll start a new ridiculous fashion for the people of Midgar. 

As I wait for the announcement that we’re close to leaving, Jenova comes into my room and takes me in. She coos over me and messes with my hair, trying for a style that will suit me and ending on just leaving it loose. Once done, she takes a little compact out of her handbag and begins dabbing pale powder on my face. Turning my face from side to side, she concludes that I’m ready. Once I put the shoes on. 

“I can’t walk in them,” I insist. 

“Nonsense,” she flaps. “Any respectable woman can walk in heels.”

I glower at her ignorant comment. “Do you want me to go in that arena in double casts?”

“We’ll just have you hanging onto Rude,” she says. “You only have to wear them for a few minutes for the camera’s and then once we’re in the Shinra building, you can take them off and never wear them again? Deal?”

I huff but nod, carrying the shoes with me as we assemble outside the door when the train begins to slow. Genesis is in an even sparklier red suit than he wore at the reaping. There are gems dotted all over it. His hair is gelled back and he seems to be wearing rose red lipstick and neon eyeshadow. I guess since we’re trying to appeal to Midgar, we have to look like them too. 

I stifle a laugh when my eyes cross to Cloud. He looks miserable wearing a jacket that literally looks like he’s wearing a grey wolf. It’s arms hug his chest and it’s legs around his waist. The tail is sat where a tail would be if Cloud had one. The head is like a hood and it covers all but a few loose blond strands on his head. His eyes are donning smokey grey eyeshadow, that really bring out the blue. His lips shine with gloss but he seems to have gotten away from the lipstick.

Rude is in a suit the same colour as my dress, wearing a gold tie with gold eyeliner under his eyes. His boots have bits of gold in them and have a little bit of a heel. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel. 

He turns to me and I see his eyes widen. His mouth opens into the shape of an ‘o’ and I feel gratitude when his eyes don’t linger on my cleavage. 

“Not too bad,” Genesis grins. “But I made sure you couldn’t outshine me.”

“With all of those gems in the suit, how could anyone outshine you?” Cloud grumbles.

We laugh at the comment and Genesis rolls his eyes. “Shush, wolf boy or I’ll send you to be neutered.”

“Oh, but that’s my favourite body part,” Cloud jokes, sending us all into a little fit of giggles. Apart from Jenova who tuts at the crudeness. “Honestly,” she sighs. 

The train comes to a full stop and I drop the shoes to the floor and put them on. The wobbling of my body is not solely down to the heels. I’m trembling. My legs don’t seem to want to carry my weight. My hands are shaking so violently, that even fisting them as hard with all my might cannot stop the tremors. Rude see’s my struggling and holds his arm out to me, like a gentleman.

“If you go down, we go down together,” he says.

Gratefully, I loop my arm with his and notice I’m not the only one shaking. But his strength holds me up and actually makes these shoes a bit more bearable to stand in. I slow my breathing down and remember to hold my head high. The doors slide open and I am instantly blinded by flashing white lights. Hundreds of little bulbs follow our path off the train and across the station. 

My smile is weak but at least I remember to do it. Rude is playing to the crowd, waving and laughing and acting like he’s having the time of his life. I must look miserable next to him. 

Questions are flying out of reporters' mouths in quick succession. Microphones are being shoved in front of my face and cameras rake up and down my body. This is too much. I can’t breathe. My head is light and my chest is tight.

I can’t breathe!

I can’t-

I-

A pair of warm hands takes hold of my shoulders and pushes me forward. “Just keep going,” Cloud whispers in my ear. “I got you. Come on, just a few more steps. Good girl.”

I step into what looks to be an elevator and once all of us are in, the doors close and I feel my body slump. I’m on my knees shaking as the lift goes up and Genesis kneels in front of me. 

“You’re alright,” he says. “You did well. It’s OK.”

I need to get a hold of myself. This was just the beginning. Next I’ll be paraded all around a stadium of spectators. Thousands of eyes will be on me. I take a deep breath in and let Genesis pull me to my feet. I kick the shoes off and leave them there. 

“In and out,” Genesis continues. “Easy breaths. In and out.”  
“I’m fine,” I insist. “I was just a little overwhelmed. I didn’t expect that many people.”

“It was a shock,” Rude says, and I feel pathetic over my weak actions. I’m not the only one experiencing this for the first time. Poor Rude must be terrified. I reach out and give him a hug. It takes him a few seconds for his arms to reciprocate. 

“You were great,” I whisperer just to him. “Fantastic. They’ll love you.”  
“I only held on because you did,” he mumbles back as we seperate. 

“Could be worse,” Genesis beams. “You could have thrown up everywhere. Just like someone here did their first time here.”

He nudges Cloud in the ribs who rolls his eyes. “Not on camera,” he says. “I waited until we were in the privacy of the lift. The walls needed a new colour so I just helped.”

I giggle. This is what I need. Some kind of normality. No hand holding or placating words. Just normal conversation about stupid and common stuff. “I don’t want an encore of that,” I smile. “Because I’ll copy seconds later.”  
Cloud mimes gagging and I suddenly feel a million times better. My legs aren’t shaking at least. 

“Well I thought it was a disaster,” Jenova pipes up. “You didn’t answer any questions and we left after a minute!”

“Shut up, Jenova,” Genesis and Cloud say together. 

*

Genesis, Cloud and Jenova get off one floor and Rude and I are left together as the lift continues down. The silence hangs between us but not because of lack of words, but because neither of us want to accept that this is actually happening. Reality has finally hit me. This is real. I’m a tribute for the Hunger Games. I have to kill or be killed. I may even have to kill the boy standing inches away from me. Will his dark brown eyes be the last thing I ever see? Has destiny chosen him to save me one day then doom me another? I know when it comes down to it, I will be able to kill someone. But right now, the thought of even hurting someone else seems impossible. I’m currently too physically weak to hurt a fly. 

“I guess it’s time to get glammed up and paraded around like prized cattle.” Rude says gently, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Ready for slaughter.”

“Still plenty to do before we get to that last part,” I humour. “All we can do is our best.”

Although my body still shakes, I see that he stands as still as a board. I admire his bravery and resilience. Maybe he has some small belief that he can win. He’s strong enough to. Or has he already come to peace with dying?

I’m struck with guilt. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be standing here. He would be back home in the bakery, making cakes and baking bread. Because of me we’re here instead of two completely different people. Those people being my brother and some other girl. Who knows, my name could have come out of the bowl anyway. By sacrificing myself, I have sacrificed Rude along with me. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s my fault you’re here. If I didn't-”

“No,” he interupts. “You did the right thing. You protected your brother. He’s too young to experience the horrors of the Games.” He smiles. “He had no chance. But now, Nibelheim may get another Victor.”

My eyebrows raise. He’s confident. The opposite of me. “Really think you can win?”

His head shakes. “Not me. You.”

My head frantically goes left to right and back. “I’m not Victor material,” I explain. “I may have enough survival skills for a few days but not against another tribute. Plus you’re likable. Sponsors will flock to send you stuff.”  
He grunts. “Do you know what my own mother said?” I shrug. Obviously I don’t. “She said that Nibelheim has a high chance of a winner this year.”

My eyes roll. “She has confidence in you.”

“No,” he grumbles. “Her exact words were _Nibelheim may have its first ever female Victor. She’s a fighter that one_. Female. She. You”

Rudes mother said that? About me? The kid who she told to die in the gutter. I’m stunned. What parent would not back their own child? My father is useless but I imagine he at least believes in me. Never would he root for someone else against me or Denzel. I want to tell him that his mother is a blind idiot but don’t want to seem rude. I smirk. Who names a kid Rude?

The lift rolls to a stop and the doors open. We’re pulled out by men and women in white coats. The muted look of the coats contrasts with their dyed skin and absurd hair styles. We’re each led to a different room. A big metal room that makes me feel like I’m inside a large box. 

I’m alone for a few seconds before three people come inside. Two women and one feminine man. They roll in between them a hospital looking bed and a tray full of stuff that look like torture devices. I see normal stuff scattered around the unusual ones. Like brushes, razors and hairspray. 

“Strip,” one of the women demands. 

I cover my still clothed body and look each of them dead in the eyes. “Completely?” I squeak. I have no problem with nudity, but these three are complete strangers to me. And one is a man even if he is really effeminate. The last man to see me naked was my father, and I was a baby. 

They don’t say a word as they approach and begin to unwrap the belt. I yelp and jump back in shock. 

“OK, fine!” I snap, pushing their hands off of me. My heart is racing. These guys mean business and are not very patient. “I’ll do it. Geez.”

  
The belt drops to the floor with a clang. Slowly I begin to roll the dress up body. Hair all over my body is standing on end. My skin has goosebumps. Once the dress is off and has joined the belt on the floor, I flush as their eyes rake over me, accessing every line and curve of my body. Probably examining every pore of my skin. 

“We can make this work,” one mutters. “I’ve seen and dealt with far worse. Well, what are you waiting for? We’re on a schedule. I said _strip_.”

I fight back tears as I unclasp my bra and let it drop heavily to the floor. I close my eyes and fight the urge to cover my chest. I shimmy the pants down my legs and kick them to the side. Subconsciously, I cover my lower regions with my hands. As stylists they probably have seen hundreds of nude bodies and mine is no different to them. But my body is mine. I don’t want it to be seen. Being nude makes me feel very vulnerable. 

My eyes are still shut as their palms roam, mumbling to one another on what they should do with my body. Where they should apply waxing cream and if they should cut my hair shorter. 

“Not much hair here,” one says as she moves my hands from my nether regions. “Legs however. Honestly, do people outside of Midgar not care about how they look?”

I want to snap at them. Punch and kick and bite. Fight my way from them. But I do nothing as one guides me to the bed and has me sit with my legs out in front of me. Hot sticky wax is slathered across my legs and one places a strip of fabric over the wax and waits a few seconds. I can’t help the screech that comes out of my mouth as they rip the fabric away. They don’t pause as they do it again and again. I have to bite my lip the whole time. When they’re done, they place some kind of soothing balm over my red skin and I sigh in relief. 

I stay silent as I let them do whatever they want with me which includes scrubbing my skin, filing my finger and toe nails, whitening my teeth and worst of all, plucking my eyebrows. They decide to not cut my hair completely and just trim the dead ends and run something though it which I’m told will make it silky and shine under the lights. 

Soon the two women leave and I’m alone with the man who has a bag full of lipsticks and eyeshadows. “So, time to make me look pretty?” I snarl.

He doesn’t answer as he goes about my face with creams, powers, gloss and glitter. He puts my hair in its dolphin flick and briefly leaves the room. He comes back holding my outfit.

“I am not wearing that,” I tell him.

The outfit is horrible. Even with my unfashionable eyes I can see how tacky the cowboy dress is. This is a costume dress for children, not a dress for a tribute trying to make a good first impression. It’s brown with yellow plaid. It even dons a red neckerchief. A costume should represent something from the tributes hometown. I don’t see the cowboy relation with Nibelheim. 

“Your mentors chose this specifically,” I’m told. “Now careful with your makeup putting it on.”

At least I have something that covers my body I guess. A few years back the tributes from Corel, a coal mining town, were covered in nothing but coal soot. Naked from top to bottom in nothing but black dust. I’m handed plain underwear and carefully put the dress on. I notice immediately that I’ve not been handed any footwear. I figured I’d be given boots with spurs on them, even maybe a hat, but I’m only in the garish dress. And here I thought that Genesis and Cloud had a knack for fashion. Maybe Genesis blew our fashion budget on his stoned suit. 

I’m guided through plain corridor after plain corridor until we enter a large open area. The ground is made of pathement and there is no roof or walls. The sky is black and filled with stars above me. I’m not alone here. I gulp. This is my first time seeing the others, as this area is filled with all of the other tributes, dressed in a mixture of beautiful gowns and silly costumes like my own.

The girl from Wutai looks like royalty in her blue and red kimono and white face. Her icy glare is not as delightful. The tributes from Corel have predictibally been dressed as coal miners in blue denim dungarees and yellow hardhats, and I’m heartbroken to see that their female tribute is a small girl of twelve, tiny against her male, dark skinned counterpart. The couple from Fort Condor have been dressed like their town namesake, all brown feathers and fake golden beaks. I feel a little better in my dress now. But only a little.

Someone slides up next to me and coughs for my attention, I turn and stifle a laugh. Rude has also been forced into a cowboy get up. Similar to mine but a shirt and trousers. He hasn’t been given a hat or shoes either. I didn’t get a chance to look at my makeup but I presume it’s similar to his. Lips pale, eyes rimmed in white and cheeks with a healthy glow. 

“We weren’t told that this was the worst part, not the arena,” he grunts. “Those stylists were scarier than anyone here.”

I can’t say I agree. The female tribute of Junon is glaring at me. Her blue eyes narrowed in disgust and blue streaked blonde hair styled in waves. She and the tall fat boy next to her are dressed in sailor costumes since Junon is host to one of two only cruise docks in the world. The other is in Costa Del Sol, a popular holiday destination for the residents of Midgar. Junon and its people are treated well since they’re the only town in the world where Midgarians go. If only briefly before getting on a cruise ship. Even though I don’t know him personally or see his face, I hate the obese male tribute of Junon. No one in Nibelheim would be able to get enough food to gain anywhere near his weight. How easy his life must have been. 

My seething is interrupted by a loud horn blaring and there are trumpets in the distance. Then the sound of horse hooves. One by one, in a perfect line, horse drawn carriages walk in front of us. One by one, a horse will stop, a pair of tributes will be guided on the carriage and the horse will move ahead. We’re put on these carriages in reverse order the towns and cities fell to Midgar during the rebellion. 

Gongaga, the town which provides power for Midgar was taken down first so their horse will bring up the rear of our parade. Nibelheim fell next, as back in those times, masonry was much more needed to rebuild fallen homes and buildings. Rude and I are guided onto our carriage once ten other pairs of tributes have got into place, the horse a strong looking palomino. 

Once the two from Gongaga are in position, we make our way into the stadium, my heart thudding along with every strike of the drums inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people are enjoying this :D

My ears vibrate from the deafening roar of the crowd on all sides of us as we enter the stadium. Rows and rows of people shouting and cheering us on. People dressed in funky clothes and hair dyed in all colours. It’s overwhelming. I keep my eyes glued to the carriage in front of us - the couple from Fort Condor. Despite being dressed so ridiculously, they seem to be enjoying themselves and are playing to the people. Waving and blowing kisses at the cheering crowd. 

Without thinking, I grasp onto the nearest thing to me, which is Rude. My hand grabs his in desperation and he laces our fingers together. “Keep hold of me or I’ll fall,” I plead.

In answer, he gives my hand a squeeze. He doesn’t look at me as he waves to the crowd, cheering along with them as they respond. The horses walk between two long lines of drummers, all beating with perfect synchrony, so loud I feel it through my whole body.

The mood quickly shifts as the horses pick up speed. There’s a collective gasp amongst the spectators and then a roar of screaming and yelling. It’s then that I feel my skin pimple as Rude and I are surrounded by plumes of grey and red dust. Brick dust.

My first thought is that the spectators have thrown bricks at us, then my next thought is that we’re on fire. But no searing heat touches me. I glance at Rude to see if he is OK and my eyes bulge. His cowboy outfit is melting away, sliding off his body and making way for a far silkier material. White with trims of gold. Flowing sleeves and a long V neck. 

Surrounded by dust, I glance down at myself and see that my dress is doing the same, growing longer at the hem and arms. Elegant long sleeves billow at my sides as we continue through the stadium. I feel the bottom of my dress flutter around my ankles and know that it too is blowing in the wind behind me. I mentally apologise to the Gongaga tributes behind us as the dust continues to change our tacky clothes into an elegant gown for me and a loose shirt and trousers for Rude. 

I see now why we have no shoes. I immediately recognise this dress as an old Nibelheim tradition. These clothes are worn by youths entering adulthood. On the day of their sixteenth birthday, girls and boys wear these white and gold gowns to mark the path of ending childhood and starting adulthood. There is then a celebration party in the town with music, dancing and a feast. It is a tradition now long dead in Nibelheim.

Full of confidence, I raise my and Rudes linked hands in the air and scream my lungs out with joy. I’m matched only by the adoring crowd. They cheer our names, throw their arms in the air, point at us and stamp their feet in approval. The synthetic brick dust is still trailing behind us and again, sorry Gongaga but, not really. 

I’m on top of the world. I feel amazing. So good that I forget the real reason why I am here. I grab a rose thrown in our direction and I clamp it between my teeth, and it earns us another bout of pleased shouts.

Ahead of us at the other end of the stadium, we head for a raised platform, high up in the air. From on top of it stands President Shinra. Short and chubby, his thinning blond hair is slicked back. His red pinstripe suit is immaculate and his grin as we stop in front of him is gross and demeaning. 

The excitement of the crowd dies down. My own elation has been cut dead, along with the dust behind us. I don’t dare to look at Gongaga’s tributes behind me. I bet they look a dusty grey and red mess. Rude and I will probably now be their first targets in the arena. 

But I fight those thoughts out of my head and I raise my chin high and glare at the President above us. He has to shush the spectators who don’t seem to not want to stop cheering. But they do when President Shinra’s booming voice in the microphone echoes around the stadium.

“Welcome all, to the seventy-fourth Hunger Games!”   
The crowd is up on their feet, applauding and screaming. Even a few of my fellow tributes join in on the clapping. My hands are unmoving, one still in one of Rudes. I give it another squeeze and he does it back.

“Welcome tributes,” Shinra continues, arms proudly raised in the air. “We thank you for your courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you a happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour.” 

Short, sweet and to the point. Nothing else is said as our carriages circle back down the stadium, past the roars of Midgar. I wave a little as we go, no longer in a celebrating mood. I smirk as we have to go through what remains of our grey dust, and am thankful it’s not real and doesn’t choke or blind me. 

Once back at our starting point, I release my hold of Rude, exit the carriage and the horse is led away. Rude and I are joined by Genesis, Cloud and Jenova. The latter has tears in her eyes.

“Oh that was so spectacular,” she grins. “All eyes were on you two. You were the stars of the show. Everyone loved you.”   
“Got to admit,” Genesis says, rubbing his chin. “Cloud knows his stuff.”

“You made this?” I ask the blond, giving a twirl and laughing as my skirt fans out. “I guess only a Nibelheimer knows this tradition.”

“My mother showed me her own coming-of-age dress after last year's Games and it sparked an idea in me,” Cloud shrugs. “I’ve been tweaking it for the last few weeks. I’m glad it actually worked.”

“You both were perfect models,” Jenova squeals. “Look, everyone is watching you. They look so jealous.”   
I turn and immediately lock eyes with the blonde girl from Junon. Her face is pure rage. Even the portly boy next to her seems pissed. I hear shouting and notice it’s the Gongaga girl, covered in dust and screaming obscenities at her poor mentors. I spot the Corel girl amongst all of the larger and taller bodies. Her brown eyes are large and her mouth open in awe. 

I feel a hand on my back pushing me towards the elevator. “Those are _not_ looks of jealousy,” Genesis comments. “Let's get you two to your rooms so the Games don’t begin tonight.”   
  


*

“You’re going to love it. I had to do a lot of sweet talking but it’s worth it. Right to the top,” Jenova informs us happily as the lift ascends. Brisk chatter fills the compact space but I don’t add anything to the conversation. My mind is still on the Junon girl. That was pure hate on her face and it was directed at me, even before we got onto the carriages. I can’t see what I’ve done to piss her off so much. My blood runs ice cold when I think that I am most likely her first target when the killings begin. 

Rude is also silent beside me, but he’s nodding along to whatever Jenova is talking about. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely interested in what she’s saying or if he’s just placating her. I must seem very impolite in comparison. 

The lift gently shudders to a stop and the doors slide open. My eyes widen immediately and I don’t know which way to turn. This room is enormous. Back in Nibelheim we have only a small living room, three small bedrooms and a cramped bathroom. I could easily fit at least ten of my houses in this room alone. The walls, floor and furniture are all off white in colour. Flowers of all colours and scents are in pots, scattered around. A large gold chandelier hangs above a large glass table and chairs. There are five doors on the left side, most likely leading to bedrooms. The carpet is fluffy underneath my bare feet. I wiggle my toes and the plush strands weave between them. 

“All of the rooms are identical so there's no need to fight over them,” Jenova says, looking around fondly with her hands on her hips. “I’ll order us some food. Why don’t you two go and freshen up?”

I nod, taking the door nearest to me. Inside is very similar and hightech. But sparse. Just a large bed, wardrobe and bookshelf. The spines on the books make me shudder. All of them are about Midgar propaganda. I slide over to the wardrobe and already there are outfits in my size inside. All mute colours of blue, green, red, black and grey. I take a grey set out and shimmy out of my dress. 

I carefully put it on a hanger and admire it. I never did have a coming of age ceremony when I turned sixteen a few months ago. I touch the silky fabric again and wonder if I can ask to take it back home with me. My fingers stop and go numb. 

I’m never going back home. My body will return in a coffin in whatever state my killer has left it. I gulp when I think of my family and friends weeping over my corpse. The idea sucks the air out of my lungs and I’m dressed and out of the room in seconds. My feet lead me up a flight of stairs and to a single door. I’m on the roof and nothing but a table and some chairs are up here. I run over to the side of the building and lean my head over, remembering how to breathe. 

I suddenly feel sick when I see how high up I am. The people below look like dots. The next tallest building doesn't even come close in compasion. Even from up here I hear joyful music. Midgar is a place of grey. Nothing but buildings and skyscrapers and long roads. But I am mesmerised by the view, so much I jump out of my skin when the door behind me opens. 

I turn, thinking it’s probably Jenova telling me to come down for food but it’s not. It’s the red haired boy from the train, the Avox. I see his eyes widen when he spots me and he hurries to leave.

“Wait!” I don’t know why I’m talking to him but I can’t stand the look of fear on his face. Like he’s scared of me. He halts and I see him shivering. But not from the cold. He is petrified of me. I try to make my voice gentle. “You don’t need to leave because I’m here. I’m not going to hurt you or say anything mean.”

He still looks terrified but he’s facing completely towards me. His dark eyes don’t meet mine as he mimics taking a drink. I know what he’s asking but I’m not thirsty so I shake my head. Before he can mime anything else I cut over him. “I’m sorry about how I reacted back on the train. You just gave me a fright and my emotions are all over the place. You honestly don’t disgust me.” 

He nods and I can see his trembles are subsiding. My heart flutters when I realise I can finally do and say something positive. “This is all messed up huh?”

He shrugs and nods to the table, indicating to the cloth that I just notice is draped over his arm and a tray holding five glass cups. Oh, he came up here to do a job and I’m stopping him. I realise that this one sided chat is over so I shift my eyes from his and nod back to him. Calmly he goes over to the table and begins to organise the cloth over it. As I’m watching, I feel a familiar pair of eyes on me.

“Enjoying the view?” Cloud asks as he comes to stand next to me. 

He leans over and reaches his arm over the side. I watch as he lets out a hiss as his arm is jerked backwards. He chuckles and glances back at me. He doesn’t say a word.

“What?” I grunt when his gaze becomes a little too much. 

“Nothing,” he says, resting his folded arms on the wall, watching the dots that are people on the ground below. “I’m just here to let you know that Jenova wants us for dinner.”

I copy his position and close my eyes as a soft breeze brushes along my face and through my hair. I hear a swell in the music and open my eyes but as I try to lean forward to get a better look, Cloud places a hand over my forehead and pushes me back slightly. 

“ _What_?” I snap again, slapping his hand away.

“Unless you want to be electrocuted and flown across the roof, my advice is to not lean over the side,” he says. Confusion must be on my face and he lets out a huff. 

He goes over to the table and grabs a glass. It’s now that I notice that the Avox boy has gone. Cloud stands a few steps away from the side and in a gentle underarm motion, he throws the glass over the side. I gasp when my mind immediately thinks of what would happen if it hit someone down below, but I shriek as the glass hits an invisible wall and bounces back full speed. It flies past between us and slams into the wall next to the door, smashing into a hundred little shards. I quickly turn back to Cloud with an open mouth. 

“How?!” I splutter.

“Forcefield,” he replies, hands in his pockets. “It’s so no tributes can off themselves before the Games. If you were to try and jump, you’d be flung back like that glass. Get a bit of a shock too. Seems like they’ve electrocuted it this year. Damn Rocket Town tributes messing with it last year.”

“Of course,” I grumble. “No easy way out. They’ve thought everything out. We’re not allowed to die unless there's a camera on us.”

“Yup,” Cloud agrees. “You may have noticed in the bathroom but there's no pills or razors either. Even the shower ensures that you can’t drown yourself.” He lets out a hollow chuckle. “I remember Genesis daring me to jump from here during my own Games. Obviously he knew I’d be thrown back. He must have been bored and thought it would be a laugh.” 

“Did you try and jump?” I ask, honestly curious. 

“Of course he didn’t,” a voice says behind us. I don’t need to turn to know that Genesis is standing there, materialising wherever his name is spoken. “Smart boy threw his shoe first. Must have known that something was up. It was then I thought that maybe I had someone special.”

“Or maybe I have never trusted you,” Cloud retorts with a smile. “Jenova getting restless?”

“Frantic,” Genesis replies. “Doesn’t know where you two wandered off to. Better get inside before she spontaneously combusts.”

Clouds face turns into one of slight disgust. “Fun to watch but horrible to get out of the carpet.”

I snort with laughter and he shoots me a quick sly smile, one only intended for me to see. I feel my face heat up and I don’t know why. 

I follow both men inside and down into our quarters. Rude is already sat at the food laden glass table, looking a little lost. Maybe everything has suddenly dawned on him. Even though he grew up better than I did, everything must still come as a shock to him. A mild mannered baker's son, thrown head first into a world of immense technology and crazy fashion. 

Jenova is pacing, chewing at one of her fake nails. When we appear, she stares at us with annoyance. “I do have a schedule you know?”

“What are you planning for?” Genesis quips as he throws himself onto a chair next to Rude. “Time us eating? Twelve minutes to eat our main course and not a second more or we’ll be late for dessert? Calm down woman. There’s nothing else important for us to do for the rest of the day. Let the kids relax.”

Cloud laughs as he too sits. I take the next available chair which is next to him and opposite Jenova who sits with a scowl. “We have important things to discuss,” she hisses at Genesis. 

“Then discuss,” Genesis says as he ladles some beef stew into a bowl. “I’m all ears.”

I can tell Jenova wants to argue but it’s Rude who cuts her reply. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?” he asks.

“You’ll both go down to the training centre with all of the other tributes,” Cloud answers. “Over the next week you can learn and practice whatever you want. Refine known skills, learn new ones. Check out the competition and find any weaknesses and remember their strengths. But be cautious because they’ll be doing the same with you.”

“Don’t flash any skills too much,” Genesis adds. “Leave some surprises for the arena.”

“Do you know what the arena will be?” I ask, because if we’re stuck in a frozen tundra like a few years ago, I want to be able to build a fire with whatever is at hand. Or how to get water if we’re put into a dessert. I doubt those two will happen again. Tributes froze to death or died of thirst too quickly and it made for a very disappointing and boring Games. Since then, the arenas always have some source of heat and water. 

But Cloud shakes his head. “We’ll know the very second you do. And that’ll be when you’re actually in it. My advice is to learn how to get food and water. Find out what plants and berries are edible. Get yourselves to a water source.”

“And learn how to build snares for food and traps for enemies,” Genesis says, chewing his way through a roll. “If you go alone, maybe some knot skills will help. Get up trees and tie yourself to a sturdy branch with rope or vines or even your belt, so if you go to sleep, you won’t fall to your death. I don’t like to mentor idiots.”   
The comment reminds me of last year's tributes for Nibelheim. The girl, a thirteen year old, climbed a high tree and fell asleep. She woke up long enough to scream before she hit the floor with a crunch. The sixteen year old boy died by eating some poisonous berries. It was a very embarrassing Games for our little town. 

“If I can get my hands on a bow and arrows I can hunt for food,” I say. “And animals are usually next to water. But snares and traps are Renos- I mean, my friends speciality, not mine.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” Rude tells me. “I don’t know any of that.”

I nod but really, I don’t have time to teach him stuff that I’ve mastered over years in a mere week. I want to spend the next few days learning new stuff that will keep me alive. I should look after myself and not care about anyone else. Because if by some miracle, Rude and I are the last two left, when the time comes, we’ll be trying our hardest to kill each other. But I guess it won’t hurt to learn how to build snares together.

I figure for weapons, if I can’t get my hands on my chosen weapon, then I could spruce up my knife skills. A week is too little time to learn how to wield other types of weapons but knives are useful for many things. A knife is probably the next best thing after a gun. But firearms were banned after the first Games they were introduced in. Again, tributes were dying too quickly and not in any spectacular fashion. My stomach flips horribly. 

“Anything else?” I ask Genesis and Cloud in a strained voice. 

“Fire building, maybe?” the blond suggests. “Unless you already know that?”

“Not without a match,” I reply. “I could never do it with just sticks.”

“Knots, snares, traps, food finding, water locating, fire and avoiding poisonous stuff,” Rude lists, checking them off his fingers. He lets out an angry scoff. “I don’t know anything. I guess in the back of my mind, I never imagined that my name would ever be picked, so I never learnt any survival skills. Don’t!”

That last bit is directed at me. I had opened my mouth to once again apologise for him even being here. I shut my mouth so fast, my teeth crunch against one another. 

“You’ll just have to use your time this week wisely,” Genesis says. “You seem clever. You’ll be fine.”

After that, the talk dies. If anyone brings up a topic, it’s short lived. My mind is racing, going through the checklist of stuff I need to learn, putting them in order of importance. Once dessert is eaten, my brain is fried and I can feel the start of a massive headache coming along, so I excuse myself and retire to my room.

As Cloud mentioned, I find no pills in my bathroom. No razer or long towels or anything that could be classed as dangerous. Not that I would do anything. But I bet there's a few tributes where the thought is crossing their minds right now. My thoughts go to the twelve year old girl from Corel. She was so thin and tiny. So frail looking that even a papercut would threaten to end her. 

I chase the images out of my head, change into pyjamas and crawl into bed. It’s only now that I realise how exhausted I am. My head hits the pillow and my night is filled with dreams of rope, deadly berries and a small girl from Corel, killed by my own hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With what is going on in the world right now, please stay safe. Unsure about other places but my country is in total lockdown. Unless absolutely necessary (medical, food, emergency), do not leave the house.  
> I hope you and all of your loved ones are safe and healthy and remain so.

Rude and I are alone in the lift going down to the training centre the next morning. We’re both dressed in the same clothing, skin fight full length trousers, short sleeve tops and thick boots. All in black. I’m nervous and anxious, trying to remember my to-do list. My porridge from an hour ago threatens to make a reappearance. My legs are like water, so I have to lean against the wall to stay standing. I don’t need to look at Rude to know he’s the same. I want to take his hand and reassure him, but I’m on my own. From this moment on, everyone is an enemy. Everyone in the training centre could be my potential murderer. 

We’re the last to arrive when our lift opens. My eyes rapidly sweep the large bright room. It looks like a typical gym with weights, bars and treadmills, but there are other stations for knife throwing, fire building and other useful and deadly stuff. 

Our fellow tributes from around the world are in an arc formation around a single woman. They’re wearing the same clothes as Rude and I. On the back of every shirt is the name of our hometown. The woman we gather around tells us that we’re free to use any equipment, to make use of all resources given to us and to not fight amongst ourselves.

“You’ll have enough time for that in the arena,” she ends. 

We disperse and I wonder where to go first. Predictably, the knife and spear station has a few people around it, including the blonde Junon girl. I want to be on the other side of the room from her, so I move over to an empty station. Turns out it’s knot making. I mark that off my mental checklist.

The instructor seems delighted to have a student, and joyfully shows me all of the knots I may need in the arena. Knots for nooses, snares, traps and security. He goes into extensive detail and won’t let me move on to another knot until I’ve mastered the first. I’m grateful that he’s a good teacher and I learn about seven knots in an hour. 

Next, I move onto the fire building station, where Rude is already sat attempting to create a fire with two rocks. I sit next to him as I watch his attempt to light the kindling with the stones. The instructor is patient and continuingly adjusts Rudes hands and tells him how to strike one rock with the other. I follow the same instructions, turning this into a game for myself, to light a fire before Rude. It’s apparent immediately that I’m as helpless as Rude is, bashing my fingers more than the stone. As I give up and decide to use sticks instead, Rude lets out a little cheer as he finally gets a little ember going. 

“Well done,” the instructor tells him. “You might want to practice a bit more. At this rate, you’ll freeze to death before you get a spark going.”

I feel Rude deflate next to me, so I nudge his shoulder with mine to get his attention. “Not bad for a first timer though,” I say with a smile. 

His sombre face lightens but he doesn’t reply as he picks the rocks up again to continue practicing. I have a bit of better luck with the sticks, conjuring a small flame after quarter of an hour of work. My fingers are numb and my brow is slick with sweat, but I’m proud of my tiny fire. That’s two off my checklist. 

On my search for another station, I pass the firing ring. Only one tribute is already there. It’s the girl from Corel, trying and failing to notch an arrow in a bow that is too big for her. I step forward, wanting to help, but remember that even this twelve year old is my enemy. So instead, I pick up my own bow and quiver and stand at the marker.

My arms fill with electricity by just holding the bow in my hands. Finally something familiar and natural for me. Without even thinking, I notch an arrow, point it at a human shaped target and let loose. Directly in between the eyes. Full of adrenaline, I fire again. This time where the heart would be. My third arrow sinks into the gut and my fourth directly in the crotch area. As I reach for a fifth arrow, I become aware that the clanging of metal and grunting that was background noise has stopped. I feel suddenly aware of many eyes on me. I remember Genesis’s words, saying not to show my enemies my full range of skills, so I purposely fire my next two arrows way off target. The sounds of people training again clues me in that I’m no longer being watched, apart from the Corel girl, who has not moved an inch since I started. As I put my bow back, intending to move on, I watch her as she now perfectly notches the arrow and fires. It hits the target's shoulder. Judging by the many arrows littered on the ground around the target, this must be the first time she’s landed the shot. I feel some kind of odd pride overcome me as a bell rings that lets us go for food. 

*

The next few days are the same. Going to the training room at first light, and apart from an hour for lunch, we stay there until dusk. Over the days I learn a few names of some of the other tributes. The girl from Junon who despises me is Scarlet, a daughter of the mayor. Her fellow Junon tribute is called Heidegger, but I nickname him Piggy due to his massive size and his disgusting joke where he called us all swines for slaughter. I think he’s the oldest out of all of us at nearly nineteen. 

I didn’t catch the first name of the seventeen year old boy from Rocket Town, but his surname is Palmer. He too is chubby but he’s harmless. A bit of an airhead if I’m honest. I don’t consider him a threat. A thin blonde girl the same age as me, named Elena from Icicle Village has joined their group. Elena is smart and the only time I talked to her, she was pleasant and upbeat, so I don't know why she's joined their team.

There are always teams during the Games, where a group of strong tributes band together to hunt down everyone else, and when they’re the last ones, they have one last battle amongst themselves for the Victor title. These kinds of tributes are known as Careers. Taught from a young age how to fight and kill, where when ready, they will volunteer for the Games. And due to their experience, they usually win. And because of that, their hometowns are not rundown or poor like Nibelheim. They flourish. Places like Wutai and Junon are rich and loved by Midgar. Towns like Nibelheim, Gongaga, Corel and Fort Condor don't have many Victors due to this.

The last one to join their Career pack is a weak eighteen year old from Mideel, a town of medicine and healing. I see nothing special about Hollander, no amazing skills or abilities, but I figure that the Careers will use him for his knowledge of medicine. Even Careers get wounds.

And there’s Marlene the Corel girl. She’s the only daughter of a previous Victor, Barret Wallace. His Games was the one and only one to have guns. He won with his superior firearm skills, shooting his enemies as cleanly as I do with an arrow. But he lost his right hand during the final fight. I heard rumours that he even replaced the lost hand with a gun. 

There is one other tribute my age that I have taken notice of. A tall and well built boy from Cosmo Canyon. His name is Nanaki but I’ve nicknamed him Red. His hair is fire red and all over his body are red and black tribal tattoos. He is tall and intimidating but is soft spoken and wise. He is probably the smartest of us all. But he keeps to himself, fluttering from station to station, sometimes at the spear station, hitting the targets like a professional. I like him well enough from the few times we’ve shared words. If Rude or myself don’t win, I want it to be Red. I bring up the idea one dinnertime.

“If Rude and I die, can you get sponsors for other tributes?” I ask, cutting my chicken into bite sized chunks. 

“Why?” Genesis and Cloud say together.

“Just wondering,” I say. “Because the boy from Cosmo Canyon deserves it if Rude and I are killed." And also because I don’t want a member of the Career pack to win. Especially Scarlet. 

“If that happens, we’ll have a word with his mentors,” Cloud says. “But stop thinking so negatively. You won’t win if you’ve already put yourself in a grave.”

“Just a thought,” I shrug.

“What about that little girl?” Rude speaks up. All heads turn to him. “From Corel I think. She follows Tifa around like a shadow.”

It’s true. Ever since the first day, little Marlene has been glued to me. But from afar. She hasn’t said a word to me but whenever I’m at a station, Marlene isn’t far behind. And she doesn’t seem to care if I know. Despite first looks, she’s clever. I’ve seen her expertly tie knots, make fires, identify poisonous plants and was the first to reach the top of the climbing rope. I really hope she hasn’t shown off enough to be targeted by the others. 

And whilst laying low myself, I’ve stayed away from the bow and have been concentrating on my martial arts. Rude is always happy to spar with me. Usually we have the mat area to ourselves, probably because others think training with weapons is better than hand to hand combat. We've shown each other a few different jabs and kicks. As thanks for helping me brush up on my fire making skills, I've shown him what little I know about snares and traps.

I roll my eyes. “Marlene too. Send my sponsors to Red and Marlene.”

*

It’s the last day we’ll ever be in the training room as all twenty-four tributes. After this, we’ll be in here one by one, being evaluated and given a score, the higher the number, the better our odds at winning, and more likely to get generous sponsors. But until then, I’m determined to refine my newly learnt skills. 

I have no trouble remembering all the knots, and thanks to Rude, I have no problems with making fires. I can identify most edible plants and fruits, but I know I’m going to have to rely on hunting animals if I don’t want to starve to death. 

I feel a familiar itch in my fingers the whole time, and I find myself sneaking glances at the archery targets. So when it’s empty, I go over to it. Purposely, I miss a few shots between the hits. Two missed shots, a perfect between the eyes, two misses then two directly in the heart. 

As usual I feel my shadow behind me. I know that if I turn, Marlene will be right there watching my every move like a hawk. As I go to fail another shot, an arrow flies over the target next to mine. I turn to see Scarlet at the station next to me, holding the bow and arrow like a complete ameatur. Her aim is completely off as she lets another arrow loose and it clatters to the floor. 

“Humph,” I hear her scoff. “This looked easy.”

I don’t reply as I hit my own target in the eye. As I begin to load another shot, Scarlet misses her own again. 

“Humph,” I hear again.

I grit my teeth in annoyance and completely forget to fail my next shot, so my arrow hits the other eye. Wanting to be away from the blonde, I turn to leave the station. As I'm thinking of moving over to the paints for camouflage I hear Scarlet call after me.

“Don’t think you’re so high and mighty just because you can hit a few motionless targets, Miss Nibelheim.”

I should walk away, I really should. But instead, looking her directly in the eye, I wordlessly collect a few more arrows and go back to the station. I press a button on the side so now, my targets are moving from left to right. In quick succession, I fire an arrow, one after the other, and hit every three of the targets in the head. I crank the movement up so they’re moving even faster. Again I hit every shot where the heart would be. I pointedly glare back at Scarlet as I put the bow back. 

She quickly hides the shock on her face then she laughs. “You know, I work better with a target that has a heartbeat.”

She lifts her own bow and notches an arrow, but instead of aiming at her target, she swings around and points it at me. My heart pounds in my chest and my blood runs cold. But I see that she’s pointing just over my shoulder. At Marlene, my little shadow.

Full of anger, I step closer to Scarlet and move in front of her aim. “Don’t you dare,” I snarl at her, taking another step. And another until I’m close enough to grab the bow, which I do quickly with both hands. She shrieks and the arrow lets loose. I duck and I aim the bow up. The arrow hits a light on the ceiling and we’re both showered with sharp shards of glass. 

Scarlet screams and the next thing I feel is a sharp stinging pain on my left cheek, my head flying to the side. Without thinking, I drop the bow, pull my arm back and slap her back with as much force as possible. "Stupid bitch" I snarl as I go for another strike, I feel strong arms around my waist and I’m being hoisted from my feet and dragged away from a still shrieking Scarlet. 

“Let go of me,” I snap at whoever has hold of me. I sharply jam my elbow into their ribs and I’m released immediately. But the sound of pain stops me from running back to my fight with Scarlet. Rude is doubled up next to me, his face contorted in agony, arms around his abdomen.

"Rude!" I’m suddenly on my knees, trying to lock my eyes with his. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t know it was you. Are you alright?”

He nods weakly. “I’m fine,” he wheezes. “I’m good.”   
“I said no fighting!” I glance up and see the head instructor hover over us. She grabs me by my shoulder, pulling me to my feet and curls her finger at Scarlet, urging her over. Scarlet does so with a flick of her hair and a huff. 

“She started it,” I mutter childishly. 

“I don’t care,” the head instructor snarls. “I’m ending it. I don’t care why you two decided to wreak my training room, but whatever it was, save it for the arena. Until then, I want my floor to be blood free. Keep all this anger inside and beat the shit out of each other in the arena. Until then, opposite sides of the room. Now!”

She pushes me towards the sparring mats and Scarlet goes over to the knife rack. I expect her to defy the instructor and fling the knife at me, but she just calls her fellow Careers over and they begin throwing their knives at targets instead, muttering amongst each other and glaring in my direction. I’m so pissed, I slam my fist harshly into a fighting dummy as I head towards the mats, Rude right behind me.

“Congratulations on your new enemy,” he says. “As if Scarlet didn’t hate you enough.”

I silently wrap up my arms with boxing bandages, ready to punch the shit out of something. When done, Rude gets the message and grabs a pair of large padded gloves. I spend the next few minutes releasing my frustration out on the gloves. I’m hitting them so hard, Rude is having trouble keeping his balance. Every time he goes to open his mouth, I make sure to hit the gloves extra hard. With one final strike that buckles his knees, I let out a groan. “I’m done.”   
“Feel better?” he asks, putting the gloves back.

“A little,” I admit, going over to a water tank and filling a cup. “I just lost it when Scarlet aimed that arrow at Marlene. She reminds me of Denzel a little and my protective big sister instincts took over.”

“Be careful around Scarlet,” Rude warns. “I’ve been watching those Careers and apart from one or two, they’re all super lethal. You’re their number one target.”

“Could have figured that one out on my own thanks,” I say after I gulp down my water. I take a deep soothing breath and throw my empty cup in the bin. “Sorry again about hitting you.”

“Can’t feel it anymore,” he grins, lifting his top and showing me his torso.

My face turns warm as he inspects where I hit him. His dark skin is glistening with sweat, running down and between his abdominal muscles. The area where I hit is a little darker and will probably bruise, but nothing bad. I turn away from him, unsure where to put my eyes. I watch as Red, a few mats away, easily flip his instructor on their back. Once Rude has covered himself, I turn back to him.

“Also, thanks for pulling me away. I don’t know what damage I would have done if you didn’t.”

He grins. “Would make the Games easier. Scarlet not being in the arena would be a blessing.”

I chuckle. “I’m not scared of her. Or any of the others. Not a single brain cell between them.”

“Which makes them even deadlier,” he says. 

*

“What happened to your face?” Cloud asks me when Rude and I return from the day of training. He blocks my path and gently takes my chin in his hand, turning my face so he can look at my cheek. I presume there’s a large red hand mark on it. 

“Got into a bitch slap fight with a slut,” I grunt, pulling my face free of his grip. “No big deal. I would have thought you’d be notified of my rule breaking.”

Cloud sighs. “The make up artists are not going to like it. You’re live on television in three days.”

I huff. “I don’t care.”

“I do. My girl will not be seen with a large handprint on her face.”

I step back from him in shock and curiosity. What did he just say? “Your girl?”

He coughs into his fist and looks a little shifty before he puts on a face void of any emotion. “My tribute I meant to say. Don’t start thinking I like you or anything. That slap print is going to make my job harder when getting people to like and sponsor you.”

I grin and lean forward, grabbing his arm with both my hands. “Admit it, you like me. You see me as a friend. Don’t be shy, Cloud.”

He tries to pull his arm from my grip, but fails in doing so. “Let go of me.”

“I know what you’re doing,” I continue, having too much fun embarrassing him. “You’re acting the hardass because you actually believe in me. You genuinely think I have a shot at winning this. But you’re hiding it by being a prick. You  _ like _ me.”

I hear him snort in the back of his throat. “Oh sweetheart, if that's what gets you to sleep at night, then be my guest.” 

There's tutting behind me and I’m forced to turn around when Cloud does. I let go when we’re faced with Genesis, who has a smirk on his face. “How cute,” he says.

“What do you want?” Cloud grunts.

“Just to remind you that you’re supposed to me mentoring the girl, not trying to get into her-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Cloud snaps. 

Genesis doesn’t need to. I know what my little act looked like. Not wanting to be stuck in between both men with my face as hot as chillies, I excuse myself and go to my room. I pick up a little of their conversation as I leave. Stuff about hormones, virgins and flirting. Before I shut my door, I hear a smack and a yelp from Genesis. 

Was I really flirting with Cloud? No, I was making fun of him. I don’t like the blond in that way. He’s just my mentor for the Hunger Games and that’s all. I swore myself off any romantic ties years ago. Love, marriage and children have never been in my future. I refuse. If I wanted romance, I would have found it back in Nibelheim. 

The thought of home reminds me of my father and Denzel, the latter probably at our beaten table and doing his homework. And I also think of Reno, hunting to provide for two families by himself. Have they been watching their screens and tuning into the pre-Game shows? Have people already been placing bets on how long I’ll live? Or how I’ll die and by who? Or are there bets on who I’ll kill? 

This place disgusts me and I feel dirty all over, like sludge has been smeared across my body. I enter the bathroom and am faced with my own image in the mirror. The cheek Scarlet slapped is bright red and is clearly in the shape of a hand. I touch it and hiss in pain. Way too sore and tender to touch. Hopefully Scarlet has the same problem. I strip off my clothes and jump into the shower, groaning in pleasure as the warm water cascades over my body and through the locks of my hair. I stay in the shower long enough to prune my fingertips. 

I quickly dry myself and get into clean clothes. As I join everyone at the table, Jenova lets out a shriek of horror. She comes to me and places her hands on both sides of my face.

“Oh honey,” she simpers. “What have you done to your beautiful face?”   
“Got into a fight with another tribute apparently,” Cloud answers for me. 

“I didn’t initiate it,” I defend, taking Jenova's hands off me and taking a seat. “Scarlet has had it in for me from the beginning.”

“The daughter of the mayor of Junon?” Genesis asks, and I notice a red mark on his face too. Cloud must have punched him for his earlier crude comments. “I remember her when she was a bratty little kid. Always has had a sadistic nasty side.”

I nod when the Axox boy starts serving us a pea green soup with bread. I smile kindly up at him and he tilts his head slightly back at me. I take a sip of the soup and hum in appreciation. As we’re eating, Genesis starts the next topic.

“No more training sessions. Have you learnt all that you need?” 

“Mostly,” I reply around a mouth full of bread.

“Enough to survive on my own for a few days,” Rude says. 

“Are there any questions for us before you do your evaluations tomorrow?” Genesis continues. 

“Do we tell you what skills we’re going to show?” Rude asks.

Genesis nods. “We’ll pass that onto the gamemakers and they’ll make sure all of the equipment you need is there before you get into the room. What skills are you planning to show?”

“My strength I think,” Rude says. “Some hand to hand combat and maybe a bit of camouflage. I can paint a little bit due to my experience of decorating the cakes in the bakery.”

Cloud flips to a page in his notepad and jots down notes then ke looks up at me expectantly. I gulp down more soup as I think. “Probably just my archery and martial arts. I don’t know anything else.”

“Two and three,” Cloud comments as he’s writing. “Do you know how they total your scores?”

“By dividing our skills equally,” Rude answers. “For two skills, each skill is marked out of ten. For three skills, each is marked out of six or seven. The max is twenty.”

“Yep,” Cloud says. “Before now, we’ve been telling you both to lay low. To not show the others how good you are. For the evaluation, do the opposite. Show the gamemakers how good you are. Go all out. You need the best score you can achieve.”

“That will make us bigger targets,” Rude points out.

“The others are going to hunt you down no matter your score,” Genesis says. “The score is more for the sponsors. Cloud and I need something to work with. People aren’t going to shell out Gil on a couple of kids with mediocre scores. They don’t want to waste money on someone who has a high chance of being killed. People like to boast that they backed a winner.”

“And I’m already target number one,” I grumble. “I have no worries about my score changing my survival odds.”

“You’ll be one of the last ones going in,” Cloud says. “So the gamemakers will probably be bored and impatient. You’re going to have to wow them to get their attention.”

“What did you two do in your evaluations?” Rude asks.

“Showed them my sword skills,” Genesis replies with pride. “I got seventeen.”

“Sword skills and climbing,” Cloud mumbles. “I got thirteen. Sixteen is about the average. You’ll be good if you get anywhere around or above it.”

“You also have to be polite,” Jenova chirps in. “Wait until you’re called to go in and wait to be excused. Also thank them for their time.”

“Thanks for giving me a number that lets people know how likely I am going to die,” Cloud mocks. Jenova tuts. I smile sadly. Although it has been three years, the Games are still a sour spot for Cloud. Not that I blame him. Surviving the Games is something that will stick with you for life. Many Victors turn to alcohol or drugs to help cope with the memories. To try and drown out the faces of the kids they have spent time mentoring, only for them to be brutally slaughtered days later. 

Speaking of alcohol, Genesis hasn’t taken a single sip since we’ve been in the Shinra building. He’s stuck to nothing but juice and water. Does that mean he’s positive about his tributes this year? Honestly, all of the tributes for Nibelheim after Cloud, and a few before, have been pretty pathetic. Usually dying within the first two or three days. 

After dessert, Jenova retires to her room, telling us to do the same. We have to be up early and be ready to take our evaluation. Genesis and Rude do the same. I’m not tired and still a little hungry, so I decide to stay at the table and pick at whatever food that has been leftover. Cloud isn’t tired either as he takes out his notepad and begins writing or drawing, which reminds me.

“Have you got around to finishing that drawing of me?” I ask.

“Huh?” he says, distracted by his own work. “Oh yeah, done that days ago.”

We fall silent, me staring at him as he doodles. “Well?” I urge.

A small smile curls the edges of his lips. “I’m presuming you want to see it?”

He flips through the pages and passes the pad over to me. I’m amazed. It’s like I’m looking at a black and white photograph of myself. With nothing but a graphite pencil, Cloud has captured the moment perfectly. My face locked in concentration, my fingers wrapped around the bow, arrow ready to fly. Loose strands of my hair blowing in the wind. Even the trees and mountains behind me are drawn realistically. I’m stunned that he was able to remember every detail from a moment that lasted just a second. 

I open my mouth to compliment the drawing, but a bedroom door opens and Genesis half hangs out of his room. “Cloud, come here a moment. I need to discuss something with you.”

“If it’s about your suit, buzz off,” Cloud says. “I’m not designing you another one.”

“Just get in here, chocobo head,” Genesis snaps. 

Cloud gets to his feet and I watch him as he enters the room and the door shuts behind him. The pad is still in my hands. Curious, I flip through the pages. I land on the notes he took an hour ago, listing Rude and my chosen skills and what equipment that will be needed. He’s also put a number next to each of our names, maybe his guess on what score we might get. Rude has a little fifteen next to his name, I have seventeen. I gasp. Does he really believe I’d get that high of a score? I personally hope I can get around fourteen. I can’t think of myself getting any higher than that. Heck, I’ll be happy with any number above ten.

I flip to the front of the notepad and take in the drawings one after another. The first is a simple drawing of a Victor's house. Cloud was probably sat on his own doorstep and drawing the house opposite him.

The next is one of a beautiful woman with long hair pulled up in a high ponytail, sat in a rocking chair and knitting what seems to be a blanket. Clouds mother. She looks oblivious to her son drawing her form. She looks exactly like the pretty woman I have seen in real life. She doesn’t leave the house much but sometimes I see her at the market buying buttons and wool. I don’t even know her name. I just know her as Cloud's mother. Mrs Strife.

The next few are of Nibelheim. Its water tower. Mountains. Forest. Residents. The dirt path. Even the mayor's house and the justice building.

I land on my own picture and flip to the next and I stifle a laugh. It’s Genesis on the day of the reaping after he drunkenly fell head first from the stage. This must have been Clouds point of view. Genesis is sprawled on the floor, limbs in all directions and mouth wide as he snores. The page has a tear in it, almost like Genesis saw this picture and tried to get rid of it. 

The next is Rude, head down and eating what looks to be the soup we had that first day on the train, right after the reaping. This drawing is not as detailed as the one of me. Almost like Cloud drew it as an afterthought. One after that is another of me. That one time on the train when I was wearing that blue dress and horrible heels. Again, it’s drawn in amazing detail. The last one before his earlier notes is another of me. It's half finished. Of the time on the roof after he threw the glass and it bounced back. My face in the drawing is wide with shock. 

I suddenly feel guilty about looking at these drawings. They’re obviously personal to Cloud. If he wanted me to see them, he would have shown me. But I’m also flattered that he has drawn me so much. But should I be flattered or weirded out? I did tell him I don’t make a great drawing and he said I mustn’t use my mirror for its intended purpose. He must see something that I don’t. 

The door of Genesis’s room opens and Cloud exits, looking annoyed. I close the pad, hiding that I went snooping and hand it back to him as he takes his seat. 

“They’re amazing,” I tell him.

“They?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Shoot. Now I can’t hide it. But I try. “ _ It  _ looks amazing, I mean. You have a good memory.”

He leans back in his chair, tapping the pad on his knee. “I don’t mind if you looked through. There's nothing incriminating in here.”

I relax. He doesn’t care. “Why have you drawn me so much?” I blurt out.

“Why? Because I like to draw beautiful things,” he replies. “There’s so little in the world and I like to capture the little bits I do see.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, gasping for air. “Beautiful?” is all I can say. 

“Surely you can't be that naive or blind?” he says. “And don’t say you’re being modest.”

“I just don’t see it,” I answer. “I’m not hideous, I know that. But I’m plain. I blend in with the crowd in Nibelheim, where dark hair and eyes and pale skin is the norm. There aren't many blonds in Nibelheim. Or blue eyes for that matter. If you’re trying to draw the beautiful stuff of the world, then why isn’t there a self portrait in here? Or is your mirror just there for decoration?”

He doesn't say a word for a moment, can’t even look me in the eye. What have I said that requires this much thought? Surely he knows how good looking he is, right? Looking annoyed, he gets to his feet and goes over to his room. “Get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll wake you up in the morning. Goodnight.” Then he’s gone.

Frustrated, I push my chair back with so much force it skids across the room. Stupid chair. Stupid floor. And stupid Cloud Strife. I can’t make up my mind about him. One second I can laugh with him and think we’re starting some kind of connection, then the next, he makes me want to grab my fork and stab him in the throat. 

Slamming my door as I enter my room, I fling my clothes carelessly on the floor, and not caring that I’m in just my underwear, I get under the covers and attempt to fall asleep. But I can’t, and I spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and cursing everyone I have ever met in my life. I curse Cloud the most. 


	6. Chapter 6

I’m angry at myself the next morning since I didn’t get a wink of sleep. My eyes are red and sore and grainy everytime I blink, and my back hurts from being laid on it all night. When a knock comes from my door, I’m thankful for a reason to sit up. 

“I’m awake,” I tell whoever is at the door. Whoever it was, presumably Cloud, doesn’t say a word but doesn’t knock again or enter. 

Using my hands to untangle my hair, I put on plain blue clothes, not even bothering to change into clean underwear. I’ll have to get changed again anyway before I head down for my evaluation. Entering the main room, I’m the last one up. Everyone except Jenova, who is in bright pink, are still in their pyjamas. Rude still looks half asleep as he sips his coffee.

“Morning,” I mutter as I take my seat. I reach out for a pastry but my stomach bubbles at the thought of eating it, so I just put it on my plate and pour myself some orange juice. 

I get mumbles back from the men. But as always, Jenova is cheery. “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day today. Evaluation day. Are you both excited?”

“Thrilled,” I say sarcastically. I’m anything but excited.

“I just want it over and done with,” Rude comments, refilling his coffee. “I could barely sleep. I’m so nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” Genesis says. “Just do your best and remember what you’ve learnt over the past week. I’ve asked for dumbbells and weights for your evaluation. Lift up as much as you can and for how long you can take. But don’t hurt yourself. And I also asked for there to be camouflage paints too. And Tifa, shoot as many arrows as you can. Hit every target. And connect your blows on the dummy.”

“I understand,” I reply. “Any advice on how to deal with the nerves?”

“Deep breaths and imagine them all naked,” Genesis jokes. I smile softly. “Be positive. Be confident. Some find it helpful to imagine that no one is even watching.”

I glance at Cloud who hasn’t said a single word. He’s my mentor but hasn’t spoken up to give me any advice or encouraging words. Our talk last night must still be on his mind. I know it’s still on mine but I’m too tired to care. If he wants to mope, then let him. I’m thankful that at least Genesis wants to keep me alive more than a few days, even though he’s Rude’s mentor and not mine. 

“How long should we take in there?” I ask.

“No more than fifteen minutes,” Genesis answers. “But longer than five. Give them time to see what you’re showing them, or they’ll forget you and mark you low. But if you overstay your welcome, they’ll get bored and annoyed and probably mark you low just out of spite.” 

It shouldn’t take me long to show them my archery skills so maybe I should concentrate on my martial arts more. Do that first then use my remaining time to quickly fire some arrows before I leave. Also be polite, like Jenova suggested. 

After breakfast and a quick shower, I change back into my black training clothes and join Rude at the lift door. Cloud, Genesis and Jenova wait with us. 

“Show them confidence,” Genesis says as Jenova is putting stuff on my face to hide the hand print. “Like you know you’re better than any one of those other tributes.”

“And no more fighting with the others,” Jenova adds as she finishes up. 

As the lift door opens, Genesis and Rude clap hands and pat each other on the back and Cloud opens his arms for an embrace. Although still slightly angry at him, I accept the hug. Before I pull away, he whispers in my ear. “You don’t need to act the best, you are the best. Good luck.”

I enter the lift and lock eyes with him. I see him give me a quick two fingered salute and a wink before the doors close. I turn to Rude and give him what I hope looks like a kind smile. He doesn't return it. I understand. No matter how friendly we are with each other, we’re not a team. From now on, it’s every person for themselves. We’re each other's competition. 

We leave the lift when it stops and we’re guided to a side room. Everyone is in here, sat on benches and waiting for their turn. The evaluations haven't started yet because usually Wutai goes first and both Wutai tributes are still in the room. I take the seat furthest from Scarlet and wait.

The Junon girl doesn’t look at me but I do notice that she too is wearing makeup to hide the mark I gave her. Her eye looks a little swollen and I have to hide a smirk. Scarlet must have underestimated my upper body strength and her pretty face paid the price. Once the last two tributes from Kalm enter the room, the Wutai boy is called through to the training room. 

I can sense the tension in the air. It’s almost suffocating. No one talks or dares to even breathe too loudly. My nerves show with the bouncing of my leg. My arms are crossed tightly over my chest and I can feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. After ten minutes, the Wutai female is called. 

One by one tributes leave the room until Rude, me and the pair from Gongaga are all that are left. With twenty tributes before us, it’s almost two hours before they get around to calling Rude’s name. He gets to his feet, sykes himself up with a few little jumps and mock punches then leaves. Now I’m alone with just the Gongaga tributes.

The girl looks me up and down with disdain. “I still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt during the opening ceremony,” she snarls. “It took two days to get all the dust out of my hair.”

The boy tries to shush her. “Zack said not to talk to any of the others.”

“I’m sorry,” I say to her, because I‘m not in the mood for a fight or argument. “I didn’t know that my costume would do that. Blame my mentor for designing it.”

“The blond one?” she says. “Our mentors have a soft spot for him. Zack is cool but Aerith is unbearable. I’m not surprised. She spent her Games being protected by people stronger than her.”

Zack Fair and Aerith Gainsborough. They’re the darlings of Midgar due to their unique circumstances. They won together, threatening a double suicide when they were the last ones standing. The Games need a winner so they were both crowned that year. And all because they love each other. Midgar fell over themselves for the Romeo and Juliet act they put on. If I remember correctly, Zack protected Aerith from the very start of the Games. Her knight in shining armour. It ruffled a few feathers when they broke the rules and both won, but not too many due to their extreme popularity.

I don’t reply and pointingly look away from them. Thankfully they fall silent too. My leg is still jittery and I have to keep on wiping my sweaty hands on my thighs. After around twenty minutes, it’s my time.

Lifting my chin in the air, I remind myself to look confident like Genesis said. The training room is bare aside from a punching dummy and an archery target practice area. Up high in a room set in the high wall sits about twenty people all talking amongst one another. They have drinks in their hands of varying colours and even from here I can see that most of them are drunk or close to it. There are only about two people watching me. An old man with slimy black hair who I recognise as head gamemaker Hojo, and a tall man with long silver hair, the winner of the fiftieth Games, Sephiroth. I stare directly into his acid green eyes as I stand in front of them. 

“Tifa Lockhart, Nibelheim,” I introduce. 

They all shush each other and turn to me. I hear one of them tell me to begin so I do by going over to the gloves and putting them on my hands. My initial thought is to ask for new gloves as these ones are a lot lighter than the ones I’m used to, but I don’t want to seem weak or needy. So instead, I stand in front of the dummy, take a deep breath and imagine that the face is Scarlets. I throw a quick and sharp jab and instantly pain cracks my knuckles and shoots down my arm. 

I yelp and cradle my hurt hand, glaring at the target dummy. It’s a lot more solid than the ones I’ve been using, and paired with the light gloves, I didn’t expect such a hard target. I hear scoffs above me and am horrified that all of the spectators are no longer watching me and are talking again. I steel myself. I need them to notice me. Now that I know what to do, I release my frustration on the dummy. Slamming my fists, knees, feet, shoulders and elbows into it, all good strikes that would stun and knock out a real human. After a few minutes of this, I throw one last hard punch at the head and glance back up.

No one is watching! 

Clenching my jaw, I tear off my gloves, throw them to the floor and stalk over to the archery range. Without a pause, I pick the bow up and again I’m thrown off kilter by the unusual make of the bow and arrows. These are made of some kind of light metal, not wood that I’m used to. And because of that, my first arrow flies past the target and clatters to the floor. I try not to let tears of anger show in my eyes. 

But like with the dummy, I quickly adjust and my next six shots hit their marker perfectly. Head, heart, stomach, eyes and gut. I grin when I hear a cheer and turn to the gamemakers but it’s not me they cheer for. It’s a large roasted chocobo, it’s beak wide open with a dumbapple in it.

I’m pissed. I’ve been overlooked by a damn bird. Even worse, it’s a  _ dead  _ damn bird! 

I can’t help but stare at them. I step forward and am stopped by the target dummy. I’m so angry, I want to beat it up again, or throw it at the gamemakers as they laugh and gather around the chocobo. I spot Hojo triumphantly take out a large knife and the laughter swells.

Without thinking, I notch an arrow and jump spin in a circle, knocking the head off of the dummy. I let the arrow fly. It skewers the head and shoots towards the gamemakers, where my arrow slices through the apple in the beak and slams into the wall. I hear gasps and shrieks, one man even falls back in shock. Now they are quiet. Now I have their attention. I put the bow back on the rack and give them a mocking bow.

“Thank you for your consideration,” I say. Then leave.

*

“How could you be so stupid?”

I glare at Cloud as he paces back and forth once I tell him what happened when I get back to our floor. His face is pink in anger and his hair is a mess after running his fingers through it so many times. I sink back into the sofa, annoyed. I resist the temptation to throw the ice on my knuckles at his face.

“I wasn’t thinking,” I snap at him, ignoring Rude who is trying to calm us both down. “They weren’t even looking at me and I just got so mad! I was looking at that stupid bird and the next thing I know, I’m firing an arrow at them.”

“Well congratulations on getting the lowest score in history,” Cloud snarls. “I’ll be surprised if they score you more than a four after that spectacle.”

“I know OK?” I shout. “I know I've messed everything up. You don’t need to keep harping on about it.”

Cloud glares but glances up as Jenova and Genesis exit from the lift. I lift my legs to my chest and rest my chin on my knees, not ready to be scalded by Genesis too, but when I look up he’s grinning, and he gives me a thumbs up.

“Fantastic,” he grins as he drops in the chair opposite me. “Amazing. Tell me, what did they do after you shot that arrow?”

I can’t help but smirk. “They screamed,” I say. “One of them fell over in shock.”

“Don’t encourage this,” Cloud groans as Jenova begins to berate my actions, but Genesis tunes them out.

“And what was it at the end? Thanks for?”

“Thank you for your consideration,” I laugh. “Then I just walked out as they stared at me.”

Genesis slaps his knees and howls. “I love it. Oh man, I wish I was there to see it.”

“Laugh now,” Cloud growls. “Because I am not looking forward to seeing how low they mark her. They won’t take this lying down. She’s in even more danger now. You know all of the messed up shit they create for the arenas. Because of this, they’re going to use that stuff on her. My first year of finally having someone with a chance, only to find out they’re a fucking idiot.”

“Put a sock in it,” Genesis says, waving the Avox over and taking a flute of champagne. We all get one but Cloud refuses. “You’re seventeen, not a seventy year old grouch. Live a little. Teenage rebellion.” He lifts the glass at me in a silent toast and downs the drink in one. I take a sip of mine and recoil at the taste. 

“And such lack of manners,” Jenova howls, tears in her eyes. “You didn’t wait to be dismissed. You just walked out.”

My joyful mood quickly diminishes as I continue to drink my champagne. I’m suddenly scared and nervous. Cloud is correct. Not only have the other tributes targeted me but now so have the gamemakers. And combined with my score that I know will be low, I’ve completely erased any chance I had at surviving. No sponsor is going to shell out Gil for me. I down the rest of my drink, hoping it’s enough to get me drunk so I don’t have to watch my low score, but it does nothing but make my tongue dry. 

“Lets move to the next room and get this over with,” Cloud sighs in a defeated tone.

We move to the room with a television where the only channel is one dedicated to the Games. Behind a desk sits one presenter. His wig is neon yellow and in an afro shape. Behind him is the emblem of Midgar, a diamond with Wutai-like shapes in it. He talks a little and then the scores are put on screen, one by one, along with our picture, name and hometown. 

Scarlet gets seventeen. I’m not surprised. We all know she’s a formidable foe and probably the favourite to win. Piggy before her gets eleven. Palmer is even worse with ten. My first big shock is when Marlene comes up with a fourteen. What did she show them to get such a good score for her age? I feel even worse about myself. My score is going to me so much lower than a twelve year old girl.

Elena gets fifteen and I’m a little confused when Red gets thirteen. I would have thought he would get a lot higher than that. Unless his mentor told him to hold back and to not make himself a target. We wait nervously as the Fort Condor kids get average scores. 

Rudes face comes on screen and he leans forward anxiously. His name is said out loud and a large fifteen comes onto the screen. He lets out a lungful of held air and falls limp on his chair, a soft, relieved smile on his face. Genesis grins and puts his hands on Rudes shoulders in congratulations as Jenova whoops. Cloud and I remain silent as Rude’s picture is replaced with mine. 

I want to shut my eyes. I don’t want to look at the screen. I lift my hand to my mouth and nervously bite my thumbnail as my name is spoken. The presenter looks at his paper and does a double take before he reads out my score. Oh no. Is it that bad? Cloud puts his hand on my shoulder and I reach back and place my hand over his, entwining our fingers. The room erupts with screams, shouts and yells when my number comes on screen. Eighteen!

I feel like I’m going to faint. What? WHAT? No, there must be a mistake! They must have accidently added the teen onto the eight I must have got. But it doesn’t look like there has been a mistake. The presenter finishes off with the Gongaga duo and then our betting odds flash on the screen. My name is at the top with the best odds. Cloud whoops and throws his arms around my shoulders, almost lifting me out of my chair as he hugs me tightly. 

“You wonderful, beautiful and talented bitch,” he yells in joy. 

“How?” I stutter. “I attacked them. I shot an arrow with a dummy head in it at them.”

“They must have enjoyed and appreciated your nerve,” Genesis says, pride clear on his face. “And your temper. They have a worldwide show to put on. My guess is that they’re hoping for a big climactic showdown between you and Scarlet. A big and flashy end.”

“Congratulations,” Rude beams. “Eighteen. Highest score in years if my memory is correct. They must have deducted one point for each skill.”

“Thank you,” I smile. “And you too. Fifteen is a great score.”

Drinks are handed around the group again. We’re all going to be super hungover in the morning. It’s a good thing we have a day off tomorrow. Our little party of five celebrate for the rest of the night. After too much alcohol, I feel light headed and go onto the roof to clear my brain. Cloud is already there, a large bottle of wine in his hand. His hair sways gently in the light wind and when he turns to me, his blue-green eyes glow. Shivers run over my skin as I feel goosebumps cover my body and the small hairs on my arms stand to attention. 

“You did great,” he says when I stand next to him. Even from here, I hear the party like music coming from the streets below. I know that if I look down, I’ll throw up, so I keep my eyes trained on Cloud. “I’m sorry about my outburst earlier.”

“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I get it. I would have said much worse if I was in your position.”

“Shooting an arrow at the gamemakers,” he chuckles as he takes a drink from the bottle. “I wish I did something similar during my own evaluation.”

“Glad you now approve,” I smile. “You were ready to rip my head off earlier.”

“That was before you got an eighteen. Now it’s just funny. Ah, I would do anything to be a fly on the wall to witness that.” 

I look out at the scenery, at the shorter buildings around us. Now that I’m no longer nervous, I see the beauty in the place. The sun has set and the sky is deep blue and scattered with a thousand stars. Lights twinkles around us and the music below shifts to a slow ballad. 

“I’m proud of you,” Cloud says softly, offering me the bottle. I accept and take a large swig from it. “And you were right. I do like you. And I do believe you have a shot at winning. The moment you stabbed that knife between Genesis’s fingers, I knew you were special.”

My eyes widen but I don’t look at him. I know he’s watching me but I know if I turn to him, I may end up crying. Big and ugly tears. I sniff to claw back the moisture already building in my eyes. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. But the tears come anyway.

I put the bottle on the side and hide my face behind my hands. Once the sobs start I can’t stop. My palms are instantly soaked with tears and I can feel my nose running. I wipe my upper lip with my sleeve and that's when I feel Cloud's arms wrap around me. I feel his hands run up and down my back and he doesn’t say a word as he places his chin on my head. I grab his shirt and put my face into the crook of his neck. I fight to get a grip of myself and within a minute, my tears stop flowing and my body stops trembling. 

“Sorry,” I say, not pulling away from him. “My emotions are all over the place. And the alcohol hasn’t helped.”

I feel him chuckle. “Nothing to be sorry for. I understand.” He steps back and uses his thumbs to wipe my cheeks. “There you go. As beautiful as ever.”

I smile and become suddenly aware of how close Cloud's face is to mine. So close I see every pore of his skin. The little hairs on his chin. The illuminous blue and green of his eyes. I can feel myself leaning in closer. Taking in his scent. Drowning in his eyes. And I can feel my own eyes begin to slide down.

A boom down below breaks the spell and I jump away from him. The music is ending as loud as it could possibly be. I heave a deep breath and quickly turn to the side and without warning, throw up down the side of the building. My first thought is to duck before my puke is bounced back at me, but somehow, it just falls down to the ground. I mentally apologise to anyone hit by it. I groan as my stomach lurches again.

“Lightweight,” Cloud chuckles, rubbing my back as I bend in half, spitting bile onto the floor. “Have some water before you fall asleep. It’ll weaken the hangover you’ll have in the morning.”

“Speaking from experience?” I say in a croak. 

“Experience dealing with Genesis for the past couple of years,” he laughs. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”

I know I’m blushing when he guides me back downstairs. Genesis, Jenova and Rude are still celebrating as we pass them where Jenova asks me if I’m alright once she spots us.

“Too much alcohol,” Cloud says, and I hate the humour laced in his voice. “I’m just going to put her to bed.”

Genesis chuckles in a lewd way. “Be safe. Use protection.”

“Shut up,” Cloud growls back. 

I’m guided into my room and I run to the bathroom instantly, just making it in time to throw up again. I turn the sink on and wash my mouth out. Urgh, I’m never drinking again. When I re-enter the bedroom, Cloud has fluffed my pillows and pulled my quilt back. In his hands are a pair of fresh pink pyjamas. 

“Going to watch me change?” I groan in annoyance as I snatch the clothes from him.

“Only if you need help,” he smirks. 

“I’m fine,” I grumble, ripping my shirt from my body without warning. Cloud’s face turns pink but he kindly turns around, staring at the wall opposite. I wrestle myself into the pyjamas and tell him when I’m done. 

I settle into the bed and Cloud comes over and wraps the duvet snug around me. He chuckles when my eyes immediately close. 

“Goodnight, Tifa,” he whispers.

The last thing I think I remember, but I’m not sure, is the soft press of lips on my forehead. 


	7. Chapter 7

My head is screaming when I finally gain consciousness. Every little bit of movement of my body sends flashes of agony ripping through my brain. Although I’m still in bed, I feel super dizzy and disorientated. I need to use the toilet but I know I’ll hurt again if I dare to open my eyes and exit the bed. But when the pressure of my bladder becomes too much, I have to move. 

I swing my legs and plant my feet firmly on the floor. I stand and take one wobbly step and then another. I stumble to the bathroom and whilst sat on the toilet, I have to hide my face behind my hands because the light is too much. My stomach churns in waves, sending bile up my throat. I swallow it down and finish what I’m doing. 

As I’m washing my hands, I get a decent look at myself in the mirror. Black rings around my ruby red eyes. My skin is pale and sweaty. My hair is a mass of tangles and knots and would be perfect for a bird to nest in. My lips are pale and cracked. The slap mark from Scarlet has gone down a lot, so hopefully it will be barely noticeable soon. 

With tentative steps, I go back into the bedroom and slowly put on clothes. Before I leave, I notice a lukewarm glass of water on the bedside table and two white pills. I smile. Bless Cloud. I don’t even care how Cloud got his hands on the pain medication as I swallow them. My throat is dry and scratchy but the pills go down easily enough with the water. 

I’m the first at the table. The others are still either asleep or hunched over their own toilet bowl. I’m still queasy so I eat none of the food on the table. I pour myself some orange juice but as I put it back, I knock the water pitcher off the table. The loud crash makes me wince.

I gasp and jump to my feet. There’s water and glass all over the floor. The Avox dashes over and holds his hands out in front of him, trying to stop me from cleaning the mess.

“Sorry,” I tell him as I kneel and start picking up the larger shards of glass. “I’ve got it. Can you go and grab something for the water?”

The Avox frowns and indicates for me to stop cleaning but I ignore him and continue. He soon gives up and later returns with towels and a brush and dustpan. Together we make quick work of the mess. 

“See that was easy,” I tell him, my tone like I’m talking to a small child. “You shouldn’t have to clean up after me.”

He mouths that it’s his job. I watch him sadly as he turns to go stand against the wall, ready to serve us when needed, but I gently grab his arm and stop him. He freezes and glances horrified over his shoulder at me. “What’s your name?” I ask softly. “I can’t keep referring to you as the Avox in my head.”

He pauses, eyebrows arched and I realise my mistake. I look around and find Clouds sketching pencil but no sign of the pad. I look around and find Genesis’s copy of Loveless. I bite my lip with worry. Genesis will kill me when he sees but I turn to the very back and hold it and the pencil out to the Avox. He timidly writes ‘Johnny’ in tiny letters in the very corner of the page. I grin. Finally a name I can give him. 

Smiling, I say his name out loud. He looks on the verge of tears. It’s probably the first time he’s had his name said to him in years. 

One of the doors opposite opens and Johnny practically throws the book and pencil at me and moves across the room. Even from here I can see him shaking. Cloud comes out of the room and when he sees me, he frowns.

“Please don’t tell me Genesis has gotten you into that Loveless crap.” he moans. “He’s got it drilled into my head.”

I look down at the book in my hands and carelessly flip through the pages. It's not a book I’ve ever read. I’ve heard of it but books in Nibelheim are only for the ones who can afford it, or for learning in school. Illiteracy is high in Nibelheim but my mother made me learn before she died. I put Loveless back where I found it, in the exact same position. Hell will break loose if Genesis knew I touched it. “Just looking,” I mumble to Cloud.

Cloud looks as terrible as I do. Pale skin, black eyes and dry lips. I wonder how much he drank after putting me to bed last night. Judging by his appearance - a lot. 

“How’s your head?” he asks as he throws himself into a chair at the table. He glances at the food and grimances. 

“OK,” I reply. “Those pills helped. How did you get them?”

“You have to call a Shinra employee and ask for them,” he answers. “The max is two per floor so feel lucky I gave them to you. I feel like my head is about to explode.”

“Being around Genesis, I would have thought you’d be used to hangovers.”

He gives me a bitter glare and I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t say his name. He teleports to where it’s said. I don’t have the patience to deal with him right now.”

I sit down and pick out an apple from the fruit bowl in front of me. The crunch in my ears sends painful shockwaves through my head. Sickened that I’m wasting food, I place the apple on the plate in front of me and push it aside. As I swallow the bite, another door opens and Rude steps out, wearing crumpled blue pyjamas and fluffy white socks. His eyes are scrunched as he carefully walks over.

“Forget the Games,” he grunts as he sits, rubbing his temples. “This headache is going to kill me.”

“With the amount you drank last night,” Cloud mumbles. “I’m surprised you have a brain left to be in pain.”

Rude groans. “Blame Genesis. He insisted on one drink for each point of my evaluation score. I don’t remember anything after nine.”

“Then I won’t embarrass you by reciting it,” Cloud says with a smirk.

  
“Good morning my lovely little tributes and my favourite cute blond!” I cringe as Genesis confidently stalks over to us. He loudly claps his hands on Rude’s shoulders who winces. “How are we all feeling this fine day?”

“Are you still drunk?” Cloud snarls. “Geez, lower your volume.”  
“This is called acting,” Genesis proclaims proudly, pirouetting before he sits. “Something you two need to ace before tomorrow.”

“For the interviews?” I ask. 

“This is a great opportunity to get your personalities across to the audience,” Genesis continues. “Get them to like you, want to support you, want to use Gil on you. Having a great score means shit if you’re disliked or made into a villain. Make an impression. Make yourself unforgettable.” 

“How?” Rude starts. “There’s only so much we can say in ten minutes.”

“Visuals first,” Genesis says as he turns to Cloud. “I trust you designed something flashy?”

“More dust?” I snicker.

Cloud shrugs and shakes his head. “I was told to scrap my original design after the opening ceremony. They didn’t want to risk dust going all over the audience. What you’ll be wearing is nice but nothing special. No surprises unfortunately.”

Genesis sighs. “Smile. A lot. You’ll get no favours if you’re frowning like you both are now. And try to make them look genuine. You’ll both have different approaches so we’ll tell you something different.”

I nod. I can’t see how Cloud can show me how to wow the audience. If I remember back to his own interview, he relied on his cuteness and being the youngest tribute that year. Women simpered over him. I can’t do that. Maybe I should rely on my high score. Show I’m a real contender and that their Gil will be worth being spent on me. My fingers drum on my knees when I think of having to please the very people who are shouting for the blood of innocent children to be spilt. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, worse than the vomit from last night. 

The thought of the interview tomorrow is daunting, and not because we’re put into the arena the very next day. I don’t do well with crowds, especially if all eyes are on me. The opening ceremony was bearable because Rude was by my side. But tomorrow, it’ll just be me on that stage, alone with Lazard Deusericus, the interviewer of the Games. 

After breakfast where nobody but Genesis ate, I retreat with Cloud to his room. He falls onto his bed and critiques me with just a stare. I don’t look at him as I stand, instead my eyes focus on one of his drawings on the wall. A pretty one of Nibelheim, drawn from height, maybe from up the mountains. 

“What to do with you,” Cloud hums. “We can’t go the cutesy route due to you being the top scorer, but we can do pretty. Modest maybe? If you had scored low I was thinking of making you act ditzy and sweet.”

“I’ll just be myself,” I snort, trying not to feel insulted. “Isn't that the best way?”

Cloud thinks for a moment. “Sure. People are going to be fascinated by you. Top scorer. Being Nibelheims only ever volunteer at the reaping. You’ll probably get asked about that. Be truthful and sincere and you’ll get some pity points.”

“Should I burst into tears and fall to my knees?” I grunt, annoyed. 

He chuckles. “If you think that’ll work. But seriously. I want you to be confident but not cocky. Have fun with Lazard. He’s good at what he does, brings out the best in people. If you run out of steam, he’ll pick you back up. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just don’t fall flat on your face in front of the cameras. And remember that the audience aren’t the only ones who will be watching. The other tributes will be watching you with extreme scrutiny. You don’t want to give them any ammo to hit you with.”

We continue bouncing ideas off one another for the next few hours. We’re both exhausted but I’m eager to know anything that could help me. I can’t remember when I joined Cloud on the bed, but once our ideas have started to run dry, I find myself on my back next to him, his arm under my head and one of my legs over both of his. I try to take the moment in. This may be the last time I have to be peaceful. Everything after this will go by with such quickness, I won’t know which way to turn. In Jenova's words, I’ll be _busy busy busy_. We only move when both of our stomachs grumble in synchronicity. 

After lunch, I’m taken aside to my own room by Jenova who has a pair of high heels in her blue hands. She shushes me before I can even start to protest.

“If you think I’ll let you go on live television wearing flats, then you’re crazy,” she says. I raise my eyebrows and watch the neon green curls of her wig bounce and wonder who the real crazy one is. “I want you to wear these until I’m happy that you can walk in them. I don’t care if you have to bleed to make them work. These heels match your dress perfectly and I won’t see you wear anything else. What are you waiting for? Put them on.”

She thrusts the shoes in my hands and I get a better look at them. White with crystals and thick straps, with a heel longer than the tip of my middle finger to the bottom of my palm. And super thin. She doesn’t really expect anyone to be able to walk in these right? Even veteran heel wearers would have trouble with these. But I do as told and I sit on my bed as I put them on. Even sat my feet wobble in them. When I do try and stand, my arms flail instantly before I make sure I fall back into the cushy sheets and not the floor. Jenova tuts and tells me to try again. It takes me a few tries until I can stand motionless without falling. Walking however . . . 

“Heel first!” Jenova snaps as I stumble into the wall for what seems like the twentieth time. “And cross one leg in front of the other as you walk, not like you have a ball between your thighs like you’re doing now. And flatten your toes, you’re scrunching them up too much. Don’t think about it too hard. It should be natural.”

“There is nothing natural about these,” I snap as I regain my footing only for one of my ankles to buckle. Jenova catches me and holds on until I’m stable. “I don’t have years of practice like you do. People don't care what's on my feet.”

She lets out a little sarcastic snort. “Of course they do. You don’t want to look like a slob on camera do you?” I don’t get a chance to answer as she continues. “No. Now again. I’ll make a lady out of you in no time.”

*

_Rip!_

My teeth grind as more hair is parted from my legs. The prep team from the opening ceremony have not become kinder since I last saw them. They mutter under their breath as they berate me for not looking after my body and ruining their hard work. I thought one of them was about to faint when she saw the state of my eyebrows. Apparently just washing in the shower is not classed as looking after yourself. As the last strip of wax removes the remainder of my leg hair, I’m yanked to my feet and soothing balm is slathered over my legs, cooling the burning and erasing the red from my skin. 

My nails are filed and painted white, my teeth are given a polish and my hair is trimmed of it’s dead ends. As one prep team member sticks fake diamonds to the right side of my neck and down my left arm, another comes in with my heels in one hand and a dress bag in the other. When the gems are done, the dress comes out of the bag and my eyes bulge. 

It’s the same pale gold as the colour on my coming of age dress. Strapless, full length and shimmery, with a corset back and long slit down the right side. As it’s placed carefully over my body, I feel how silky and light it is. As one tightens the corset, pushing air from my lungs, another puts my feet into the feels. Once fitted, I feel the swish as I twirl. The look is completed by my hair being styled into subtle waves that fall down the length of my back. The mirror shows someone beautiful and strong, long legs and slim waist. The diamonds on my body shine with every tiny little movement. My eyelashes are long and dark and my eyelids are gold and glittery. With one last application of deep red lipstick, I’m guided into the lift. 

It’s a short journey but I end up in a small but lavish room where all of the other tributes are lined up in order against a wall, waiting to go on stage. Even from here, I hear the screams and chants coming from the audience. I spot Scarlet near the front of the line and I can’t lie, she looks radiant in her red dress, her blonde hair perfectly styled on top of her head. I suddenly feel plain and I’m glad my interview will not be right after hers. Anyone after her will look ugly, so I almost feel sorry for Piggy in his pea green suit, his stomach pushing the buttons out so much, they threaten to pop off. 

A woman in a headset lightly grasps my arm and pushes me in line, in front of a boy in a white jacket and gold tie. I have to do a double take. Rude grins as our eyes meet. His suit is tailored for his body perfectly, pure white with black lines and buttons. His tie matches my dress. In the corners of his eyes, there is a diamond that matches my own. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he jokes in a soft voice. “You look . . . Wow, I’m speechless.”

“You polish up well,” I laugh as I straighten his collar. The texture is thick but soft. I notice that his skin is shiny with bits of glitter. He also smells really good. Sweet like vanilla. 

“I thought I looked good,” he giggles. “Trust Cloud to have you show me up. Genesis told me my suit was his own idea. Cloud did your dress and Genesis just matched the colours.”

I understand why. Cloud is my mentor and Genesis is Rude’s. They’ve always said that Rude and I are rivals so it makes sense that they wouldn’t help the others tribute. But I do wonder if they’ll band together to help us both once we’re in the arena. I jump when there’s a huge roar from the crowd. 

“Everyone in place?” the headset woman calls. No one says a word. “Good. Everyone, you have ten minutes on that stage. You’ll go up in the order where you are in the line. When your interview is finished, a buzzer will sound and you’ll leave the stage on the other side. Your mentors will meet you there. There’s plenty of screens around for you to watch each other.”

The large screen behind her shows a swooping shot of the applauding crowd and then zooms to the stage as Lazard Deusericus appears in a sparkly navy suit. His blond hair falls in waves to his shoulders and the tips are dyed blood red. The applause lifts as he raises his hands. 

I breathe in and out carefully, trying not to fidget. I don’t realise I’m playing with the diamonds on my arm until one comes off. I try to stick it back on but it refuses. So I just drop it on the floor and hope no one saw. I keep my eyes glued to the screen when Scarlet goes up and daintily sits on the silver throne shaped chair. She laughs and jokes with Lazard, who compliments her beauty and her score of seventeen. I don’t miss the fleeting look of annoyance on her face when he mentions that it’s the second highest. After finishing that she’s not afraid of the competition, the buzzer goes off and Piggy is ushered out the room as Scarlet leaves the stage.

You can tell who the favourites are by the loudness of the cheers. Piggy has a few claps and cheers and Palmer gets a bit of love too. The stadium erupts when Marlene steps out, looking very adorable in her little yellow dress. She’s so small her feet don’t reach the floor when she sits down. Her interview is filled with the crowd cooing. 

As the line gets smaller, I have to keep telling myself to keep my head up and remember what Cloud said. But all I can recall is how we laughed at my poor attempt at being sassy. The smile that was on my face disappears as I’m guided out of the room. 

On the sideline waiting, I see that the crowd is much larger than what was shown on the screen. There must be at least a thousand people. It’s so daunting that I don’t hear my name being called when I’m introduced. The screaming of the crowd as I step onto the stage is deafening. The chair I’m aiming for is blurry and so far away, as is the hand Lazard holds out to me. I tightly grasp onto it, using him to steel myself to the ground. 

His voice sounds like it’s underwater and I’m brought back to earth when the crowd is silent as I take a seat. Ears ringing, I meet Lazards blue eyes, waiting for me to answer. It’s then I realise that I’m being talked to. “What?” I ask. I flinch at my own rudeness. 

He laughs along with the spectators, patting my hand joyfully. “Someone must be nervous,” he chuckles to the delight of the crowd. “I said how beautiful you look.”

“Oh,” I jump. I hear Jenova in my head, whispering _be polite_ , so I smile. “Thank you. You look great too.”

I hear cheers. Good start. I pray that I finish in the same way. Lazard chuckles. “I’m plain compared to you. Everyone, isn't she just radiant?” More shouts and screams, my heart pounding along with the stamps of their feet. “Now Tifa. What has impressed you most about Midgar?”

I go to say the beautiful view but my lips say: “The food.”

Everyone laughs like I’ve told the best joke in the world. “Yes,” Lazard says. “Only the best for our tributes. Now listen, everyone will agree when I say that I gasped when you came into the stadium during the opening ceremony. Such a wonderful sight. What did you think of it?”

“I hated the cowgirl outfit,” I splutter honestly, earning me a few titters. The positivity makes me bold and I sit up straighter. “But the dress. It was beautiful. It’s a traditional dress of Nibelheim. I’m glad I was able to share it with you all.” Even from here, I can tell Cloud and Genesis are proud of my reply. Lazard is doing a good job at making me feel super relaxed. He doesn’t push for answers and knows just how to react to get the crowd on my side. So I continue. “The gold of this dress matches the gold of the one I wore then.”

“I didn’t fail to notice that,” Lazard says warmly. “Or the reference. Nibelheim is the home of brickwork correct? When your costume melted with all that dust, my heart stopped.”

“So did mine,” I reply. The crowd laughs. 

Lazard waits for the crowd to quiet down before he delicately takes both of my hands into his. “The reaping,” he says calmly. “Was that your brother you volunteered for?”

I push back the instant tears. “Yes.”

“Can you tell us more about him?”

I want to jump up and tell him no. No one has any right to know about Denzel. But I can’t. I’d be hated if I did that. So I decide to keep it short and simple. “He’s twelve,” I start. “It was his first reaping. When his name was called, I didn’t waste time taking his place. I love him more than anything in this world.”

The crowd _awws_ and I hear a couple of sniffs and stifled sobs. Lazard senses the lull of the interview and brings it back up with a simple few words. “You did a wonderful thing. Many of us were in tears. What would he think of you getting a score of eighteen?”

“He’d be proud I hope,” I answer, wondering what _did_ go through Denzel's head when the scores were announced. Was he happy or scared? “I know he’s rooting for me. I told him I’d try and win. Win it for him.”

The crowd is in real tears. How can they be so emotional for someone they want to see be murdered in a brutal way? Midgar is strange and I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.

“Talking about your score,” Lazard says with joy, brightening the mood of the crowd. “What did you _do_ to get it so high?”

I glance up at a balcony that hangs over the audience. There sits everyone who was present during my evaluation. Every gamemaker. Again, I meet Sephiroth's green gaze. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell,” I say. 

“She’s not!” yells the man that fell over when I fired the arrow at the Chocobo.

Everyone laughs as the buzzer goes off and I’m pulled to my feet by Lazard. My ten minutes are up. They flew by so fast.

“All out of time I’m afraid,” he says. “Give a cheer for Tifa Lockhart, tribute of Nibelheim.”

Cheers follow me as I exit the stage. I enter a room similar to the one before my interview but there are no other tributes around. Cloud, Genesis and Jenova gather around me. My legs feel like jelly and I’m guided to a chair before my legs stop working. 

“You did great,” Genesis is saying from what feels like far away. I don’t know. My ears have decided to match my legs and refuse to work properly. “They loved you. Enamored.”

“So proud,” Cloud adds.

I don’t hear anything for a few moments, completely missing the first half of Rude’s interview. I watch on the screen as he and Lazard joke and compliment each other's suits. They make a show of feeling each other's clothes and it sends the crowd into roars of laughter, so loud I feel the room vibrate. The crowd shushes each other when Lazard brings the topic of a girlfriend up. 

Rude shifts nervously as he answers. “No one,” he mutters. “I’m single.”

  
“Good looking boy like yourself must have some admirers,” Lazard urges as the spectators shout in agreement. “C’mon, there must be someone?”

“Well,” Rude says slowly. “There is one girl I kind of have a big crush on. I’ve liked her for years but . . . I don’t know. I don’t even think she knew I existed until the reaping.”

There’s sounds of sympathy. Lazard pats Rudes shoulder and asks sadly. “Taken by another man?”

“I don’t think so,” Rude replies. “A lot of guys like her so it makes sense that she wouldn’t notice me.”

“Here’s what you do,” Lazard says confidently. “You win this. You go back home and she’ll have no choice but to notice you. She won’t turn you down then.”

Rude shakes his head. “I don’t think winning will help in any way.”

“Huh? Why?”

Rude blushes and trips over his words as the buzzer goes. “Because the girl I like . . . she came here with me.”


	8. Chapter 8

The yells of the crowd overshadows my “ _What?_ ” My shock is instantly taken over by pure rage. How dare he! _How dare he_?! My whole body is trembling with so much anger, I know I won’t be able to hold it in for long. 

Equally as pissed, Cloud turns to Genesis and slams him into the wall. “I told you we weren’t going through with this act!”

On the screen, I can tell that Lazard wants to question Rudes answer more, but the buzzer went, his time is up. There are more shouts as he leaves the stage and enters our room. I don’t even think when I get up and harshly slam him to the floor. 

“Tifa!” he splutters, shocked. I loom over him and my shadow covers his terrified face.

“What the hell was _that_?” I scream as the Gongaga girl saunters onto the stage. “How fucking dare you?”

“Hey,” Cloud says as he pulls me away from Rude who is timidly getting to his feet. “Leave if for when we get back. We have to go.”

I’m so furious, I shrug Cloud off me and leave the room, pushing two people aside as they enter. The black haired male says something I don’t hear but I don’t care. I stomp over to the lift and slam my hand onto the button. I glare as the doors close on Rude who hurried after me. Minutes of seething later, I enter our floor and in frustration, I grab a potted plant and slam it onto the floor. Clay and soil spill everywhere as the white and yellow petals flutter around me. 

How dare Rude say what he said! It made me look stupid, weak and pathetic! It’s undermined all the hard work I’ve done up until now. I grab fistfuls of hair and scream. My lungs are still burning when the lift doors open. I turn and go to push Rude again, maybe even slap or punch him, but Genesis steps in front of me and grabs my flailing wrists. 

“Let go of me!” I shout, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “He had no right! No right at all!”

“No,” Cloud mutters darkly. “This is all Genesis. It was his idea.”

“And you agreed?” I snarl at him.

“Of course not,” the blond scowls. “He’s trying to recreate what Zack and Aerith did all those years ago.”

“What I’m trying to do is save both their lives,” Genesis growls as he lets go of me. I step back and bare my teeth like a feral dog. “It worked for-”

“It worked for Zack and Aerith because they actually love each other,” Cloud snaps, rubbing his throbbing temples. “These two are as romantic as the soil on this floor. If they tried to do the lovers act, Midgar will see right through them. And they’ll be pissed. Pissed enough to stop sponsoring them both. This is not helping either of them and you know it, Genesis.”

“You could have asked my opinion,” I growl. “I look like a dumb fool.”

“I’m sorry,” Rude pipes up and he recoils as I glare at him. “I really am.”

I see the sincerity in his eyes and I suddenly deflate. He’s as much a victim as I am. Whatever Genesis is trying to do will not work. Yes Zack and Aerith won together but in doing so, they angered Midgar by making a mockery of the Games. But because of true love and their popularity with the Midgar people, they got off lightly. Their whole victory tour was filled with acts of affection and loud declarations of love. Everyone could tell that they were enamoured with each other. It’ll be like signing our own death warrants if Rude and I tried to replicate that. Midgarians are not idiots. No one would fall for the act and we’d be hated. No matter how likely we are to win, no one would want to sponsor either of us. And if one of us did win, they’d be a detested Victor. It’s such a stupid idea that it makes me want to laugh. 

“We need as many options as possible,” Genesis defends. 

“And this is not one of them,” I tell him. “I can’t act. I can't make people believe I love someone I don’t. I’m not doing that. You’re not my mentor so you have no right to tell me what to do in that arena.”

“So you’d let Rude die?” he asks.

“Of course not,” I huff. “I wouldn’t just let him die, but if it was down to me and him, then yes. I’m not risking my chances of going back home to my family just because you want to orchestrate some dumb play. We’re real people fighting for our lives, not actors. If you wanted a lover’s act, you should have tried it with someone else. Now if you don't mind, I’m going to go and change. I don’t want to see anyone else for the rest of the night.”

And with that, I turn on my heel and head into my room, making sure I slam the door to emphasise my frustration. I rip the dress off my body, not caring that I’m tearing the corset apart and rub my arm and neck free of the diamonds. I quickly shower and put on the television that is in my room. The only thing shown is a rerun of the interviews. I watch myself, beautiful in my golden dress but I can’t hide my emotions. It’s clear that my face is showing nerves and distaste when my mouth is saying confidence and joy. I simply cannot act. How on earth did Genesis think I could pull off what he had planned? Annoyed, I switch the screen off before Rude’s fake confession is shown. 

I do wonder, by refusing to play my half of the lovers act, have I damned Rude? Is he now going to have to act like a love struck idiot the whole of the Games? And how will I come across now when I show that I do not share the same feelings? I’ll probably be labelled as a heartless bitch, uncaring about the boy who opened his heart and told the world about his huge crush on me. My anger at Genesis builds so much, I can’t stay in this room any longer.

The floor is silent and dark when I leave my room. The Hunger Games start tomorrow so everyone is getting as much sleep as they can. I go over to the table to the fruit bowl and pick out two oranges. With them, I climb up to the roof, a place I’ve come to see as my reflection spot. Someplace I go to be alone.

But it seems like I won’t be alone tonight. I have no claim to the roof but I’m annoyed when I see Rude there, looking at the busy city below. I should turn back, but I remember that I’m not angry at _him_. So I cough to announce my appearance. 

He jumps and turns to me. His eyes widen in shock and my heart sinks when I see fear too. “Oh, erm, hi. I'll just go.” 

“Don’t. Can’t sleep?” I ask as I stand next to him. I peel the first orange as I wait for his answer.

“Yeah,” he admits. “This time tomorrow we’ll be in that arena.”

“Or dead,” I say bluntly. He levels me with a sad look and I smile. “Joking.”

“So you’re not angry at me anymore?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault Genesis made you say those things. I can see what he’s trying to do but you have to agree, it’s not going to work. No one is going to believe that we actually love each other.”

He doesn’t reply as he steals a slice from my orange. Feeling generous and still a little guilty about what I did and said to Rude, I place the fruit on the wall between us and peel the second one and do the same. We eat in total silence.

“I’m sorry I shoved you,” I say when the quiet gets too much. 

“It’s fine,” he replies. “You were in shock and angry. I’m just thankful you didn’t punch me in the face.”

“I almost did,” I chuckle. I look up at the stars. This might be the last night I ever experience. The last time I can look at stars or the moon or anything. 

“Thinking about your family?” Rude asks.

Guilt flurries through me. I _should_ be thinking of them. “No,” I admit. “Just enjoying what may be my last night.”

“You shouldn’t worry,” he says. “You’re the favourite to win.”

“That means nothing,” I say somberly. “What are _you_ thinking about?”

“Everything,” he sighs. “My parents and friends.”

Friends. I remember something from after the reaping. Reno came to see me before we boarded the train for Midgar. But I am not Reno’s only friend. “Can I ask? Did Reno see you before we came here?”  
He nods. “Yeah. Just him and my parents.”

“What did he say?”

“Just wished me luck,” he answers. “He didn’t say he’d miss me but I knew he was thinking it. He doesn’t rate my chances of returning to Nibelheim. Out of the two of us, he prefers you.”

I want to deny it but I can’t, not if it’s the truth. I don’t say it to Rude however. We’re thinking of too much already. And if Rude did win, I don’t want to be the cause of tension between him and Reno when he returns home. “I don’t want the Games to change me.”

“Huh?”

“If I die, I want it to be as myself,” he explains. “Not some killing machine or whatever Midgar has made me appear as. I just want to be the same person I always was.”

“A kind and generous soul?” I say. “Like when you threw that bread for me?”

He blushes. “You remember that?”

“How can I forget something that saved me and my family's lives? Because that's what you did, Rude. I didn’t get the thank you for it.”

“It was nothing, just a bit of burnt bread,” he mumbles. “It was going to the pigs anyway.”

“But thank you,” I say. “For saving my life.”

*

I’m almost in robot mode the next morning. I don’t even think when I shower and exit my room and join everyone at the table for breakfast. Everyone is nervous. Jenova is harping on about some schedule, Genesis reading out loud something from Loveless, Cloud sketching on his pad and Rude eating in silence, staring blindly at the wall. I sit and attempt to eat something. Anything as this may be the last chance I have at eating a decent meal. 

I grab a roll and it’s tasteless in my mouth. But I carry on chewing, dipping it in my broth and lapping up as much as I can. I’m too nervous for anything else. The smell of fresh eggs is tempting, but I know if I eat any more, I’ll spend my last moments before the Games throwing up. 

“Can you shut up?” Cloud snaps, making everyone at the table jump. I glance at Cloud who is glaring at Genesis, who just rolls his eyes and continues to read his book, but no longer saying the words out loud. 

Now it’s too silent and it’s enough that my ears are ringing. I want to go into my room and stay in bed the rest of the day, but that’s impossible. I’ll be dragged to that arena no matter what. Jenova looks at her watch and gets to her feet and enters her room. “Now you two,” she says when she comes back, holding two clothes bags. “I know they’re not very stylish but these are what you’ve been ordered to wear.”

“We’re not fighting over a fashion award,” I grumble, making Rude snort in laughter. “I only care about how useful something is to my survival.”

“No matter,” Jenova continues, shoving one of the bags into my arms. “Put them on before you leave here. We have thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes until my life either changes forever or is completely wiped out. Sure in Nibelheim there are not a lot of choices of activities or jobs, but there was so much more I wanted to do before I died. Watch Denzel become a man. See my dad step up and be a father. Maybe even find love, even if I have sworn myself off romance of any kind. 

When I can’t stomach any more food or being sat at the table, I take my clothes into my room to change, catching a sad smile from Johnny before I shut the door. A dark green shirt hints that the arena may contain a forest or jungle area. Thick trousers of the same colour suggests that it’ll be cold at points too, with a leather brown belt. Fluffy white socks that I could use as gloves if needed. Thick black boots, good for running, hiking and climbing and a thin, black and waterproof jacket. I put them all on and look at myself in the mirror. Once my hair is tied up in a ponytail, I look like the textbook version of what a Hunger Games tribute should be. 

I leave the room, unable to stare at myself any longer. If I did, I’d be tempted to try and drown myself in the sink. The rest of the room joins me at the lift. Jenova with tears running down her face wishes us luck and envelops Rude and I in bone crushing hugs. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. Although annoying at times, I’ve come to like Jenova. It’s not her fault that she comes from a place sheltered from the horrors of the real world. 

With the three males, I enter the lift. Jenova, who is staying behind, blows us kisses as the doors slide shut. I give her a little wave before she’s gone. Already exhausted, I lean my back against the wall and shut my eyes, trying to calm myself and my racing heart down. I’m thankful no one speaks. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if someone tries to engage me in conversation. 

When we’re off the lift, we end up in a large open space outside, where two large hovercrafts are waiting. The sun glints off their bright silver bodies.

“We’ll see you soon,” Cloud says as Genesis adjusts Rudes shirt collar. “We’ll talk before you enter the arena.”

Rude and I nod as he and Genesis leave us and head to one of the hovercrafts. I watch as Cloud is embraced by a man and a woman who I recognise as Zack and Aerith. Even from here, I can see how forced all their smiles are. Then we’re guided to the other hovercraft. Inside, strapped into their chairs are about half of the other tributes, wearing the exact same clothes I am. I don’t fail to notice that the sparse chatter that was going on has come to a complete halt. It continues as I take a seat and someone straps me in. I force myself to appear confident, but the drumming of my fingers on my knee shows otherwise. 

I try to block out the noises of talking, crying and nervously tapping feet. I don’t even turn my head when other tributes enter. Whenever the talk becomes hushed, I know it’s when a powerful contender has entered. I try not to let the anger on my face show when Scarlet deliberately takes the seat next to mine, but I do see the malicious grin that is on her face as she’s being strapped in. 

“Good luck, Nibelheim,” she whispers just for me to hear. “You’ll be needing it.”

“I don’t need luck from losers, Junon,” I can’t help but snap back. 

“We’ll see,” she scoffs once everyone has arrived. “The whole world will see.”

The door of the craft shuts and there's a rumble as we take flight. A woman in a dark blue suit walks up and down the aisle between the tributes, marking off our names on an electronic pad in her hands. As she marks out names as present, a man in white scrubs takes out a large gun-like needle and puts the needle into our left forearm.

“A tracker?” the boy from Mideel asks.”What else does it do? It can’t just track our locations.”

“It monitors your heartbeat,” the man says as he takes my arm and jams the needle in. I wince when I feel the little metal chip rest under my skin. “If you're attacked and your death isn’t obvious, this tracker will monitor your heartbeat and when your heart is no longer beating for thirty seconds, you’ll be confirmed as dead and the cannon will go off.”

The boy’s face pales but he nods in understanding. I rub at the injection site and my fingertips come back with a little spot of blood. There are no windows to look out of so my scenery is my fellow tributes. After the question was answered, everyone sank into complete silence. Some people are successful at putting on brave faces, but most can’t hold back the fear in their eyes or the wobble of their lips. I find Marlene on the opposite side of the craft, somewhere near the front. Her face shows no emotion but her legs are swinging back and forth and her hands are doing a plait in her brown hair. I can’t see Rude but I’m hoping he’s showing confidence and not terror.

The flight takes about an hour and we’re released one by one from our chairs as the back of the craft opens. I’m near the back so I’m one of the first out. We’ve landed in an underground bunker, the roof now closing up and blocking the bright sunlight. A large woman in a headset grabs my arm and forcefully guides me down, underneath the floor and under the arena. Lower and lower we go until we end up in front of a single plain door.

“Nibelheim, Lockhart, in position,” the woman says into her microphone before opening the door and pushing me in. I don’t see any of the room before something wraps around me. I instantly recognise the feel of Cloud's strong arms. I embrace him back, squeezing him as hard as I can. 

“Welcome to the Launch Room,” he grumbles into my hair. “Or as we tributes like to call it, the livestock room.”

I let out a sob filled laugh as I release him. “Ready for slaughter,” I add.

“Hey, none of this,” he says, wiping a tear that falls from my eye. He runs his hands up and down my arms and gives me a soft smile. “You’re shaking.”

“You expect me not to be?” I ask. 

“Just an observation,” he says.

As he steps back, I take in the room. Super white, clean and new. After the Games, the people of Midgar can pay to have tours of these rooms and the arena. Get informed talks on who stood here and what happened before the tributes go into the arena. I’ve heard they also let the children reenact some notable deaths and show people the areas where tributes were murdered. I briefly wonder what will be said about me when they get to this room. Or if my death will be a popular tourist sight to visit or play out.

“Any last advice?” I mutter as I turn to my mentor.

“Don’t go for the weapons right away, no matter how tempting” Cloud says. “Most deaths happen within the first couple of hours. It’s called The Bloodbath for a reason. Just grab the bag closest to you and run for shelter. Don't stop until you’re a thousand percent certain that you’re alone. Take inventory of your bag. Then try and find a water source. Dehydration will be your greatest enemy besides the other tributes. Don’t panic if you have no weapons. Anything can be turned lethal when needed.”

“ _One minute_ ” a voice over the speaker announces. My vision blurs and my head spins but Cloud's hands around mine brings the room back into focus. 

“Pointless question, but ready?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” I agree. “Pointless question.”

Wordlessly, he guides me over to a circular metal platform in the corner. I step on it and glance up. Nothing but a pitch black tunnel. Up above me is the arena, where I will either come out victorious or in a body bag. Definitely the latter.

“ _Thirty seconds_.”

“Here,” Cloud says quickly. He reaches up and takes off his Fenrir pin. Carefully he pins it to my shirt, where it’s hidden by the jacket. “For luck.”

“Really?” I ask, forcing out a little chuckle. “Luck?”

“It worked for me,” he says. “So I guess it can be classed as lucky.”

I don’t say that the pins luck is only fifty percent, since the first time it was worn in the Hunger Games, the wearer, Clouds father, died. 

“Thank you,” I whisper as a ten second countdown plays backwards over the speaker. “I’ll make sure you get it back.” I let the silent ‘dead or alive’ linger between us. 

Before I’m encased behind glass, Cloud leans forward and gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead. I lean forward as he leans back, but the glass slides around me and I smack into it. The bonk of my head against it makes me giggle. I lock eyes with my mentor and the last I see of him is his beautiful smile as I’m raised up and surrounded by darkness. 

For about half a minute I’m lifted up, then the platform under my feet raises me up and I’m suddenly blinded. I instinctively clench my eyes shut and inhale the scent of fresh air and trees. I feel a light gust of air slide around my skin and through my hair and in the distance, I hear the singing of birds. I open my eyes when the voice of the Games commentator, a man only known as Tseng says:

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!”


	9. Chapter 9. The Arena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuhh, for some reason, I accidently deleted a huge chunk of the end of this chapter and not remembering what I wrote and because my computer has an autosave function, I had to redo it. I was so proud of what I put and I feel like what I rewrote isn’t as good. Oh well. Enjoy

One whole minute.

That’s how long I have to take in my surroundings, my competitors and figure out what I’m going to do first before the starting trumpets flare. Grab the first bag I see and run, that was Clouds advice. I spot a bright pink backpack a few feet in front of me, so I could grab that. But the further away the supplies are from the centre, the less valuable stuff inside.

I look around. We’re currently in a large and beautiful green meadow. In a circular shape with a large golden cornucopia of supplies right in the middle, all twenty-four tributes in a circle around it. The cornucopia is around eight feet high and twenty feet long, with a curled tail that rests on its flat back. Behind us are thick trees, a forest probably going on for miles. The sky is a cloudless baby blue and the scorching sun already makes sweat run down my back. There is also a small little lake full of clear water, sparkling under the sunlight. 

Supplies like rope and wire are scattered everywhere, but the weapons are inside the cornucopia. I look around for anything useful and spot it. A golden bow and quiver full of arrows. I want it. I need it. But it’s right inside the mouth of the cornucopia. I will most likely be killed before I can even breathe on it. But if I don’t get it, a Career certainly will, and I’ll cut my odds of survival in half if I don’t grab some kind of weapon. 

I’m so tempted to just run for the bow now but the area around the platforms we’re on are booby trapped with explosives. If we step off our platforms even a millisecond before the end of the countdown, we’ll be blown to smithereens. I remember one year where a small girl was so terrified, she dropped the teddy bear she was holding on the ground and she went up with a huge boom. I don’t even want to recount the aftermath. I definitely don’t want to die in that fashion. 

But I ready myself, deciding that the very moment we’re allowed to go, I’m going for that bow. It’s right in front of me. It’s there for me, I know it. I doubt anyone else here showed the gamemakers any archery skills. It’s mine. Damn Clouds advice. 

It seems like a lifetime as the countdown reaches the teens. Around me, other tributes are ready to spring into action. The boy from Fort Condor is directly to my right, about ten feet away, already with urine stained trousers, and the girl next to him from Wutai, her hands clenching and unclenching restlessly. And next to her is Rude. He’s not looking at the bounty around the cornucopia or the terrain, he’s watching me. We lock eyes for a split second and he’s very subtly shaking his head. What? Has he figured out that I’m going to brave the madness and go for a weapon? And he’s telling me not to? Or something else?

As I’m trying to decipher the meaning of Rudes little head shake, a flare of trumpets sound and the tributes around me immediately spring from their platforms. Shit! I was so busy being concerned with Rude, I missed the end of the countdown. I’m already two seconds behind everyone else, some amazingly already at the cornucopia. I needed every second I could take to get that bow! 

Too late. So instead I grab the pink bag in front of me. I straighten up, ready to grab something else, but I see Scarlet, knives in both hands, coming right for me. I use the bag to cover my face as she flings her first knife. With a thunk, it lodges in the bag as I turn to run. As I’m running, I feel a whoosh of air right past my ear and then blinding pain bursts from the side of my head. But I don’t stop as another knife just misses my heels. I crash through the trees of the forest and immediately fall down an embankment. I grunt as I ungracefully roll down, hitting every rock and twig on my descent. I tumble into a large pile of moss and I scramble to my feet. Then something powerful slams into me, winding me and throwing me off balance. I roll to a crouch and quickly glance up, fists already up in a defensive pose. Red pulls himself to his feet and glares at me, pure terror in his eyes. We stare each other down for a few moments, but as I reach for the knife still stuck in my bag, he gets up and runs. Deeper into the forest until I can no longer see or hear him. 

I let out a breath of held air and slowly get to my feet, but shouts above alert me that I’m still being hunted. So I run too, in a different direction that Red took. Once the adrenaline runs out of my system, the pain in my ear comes back to announce its presence. I lift my hand and touch my ear and find a bloody slice has been taken out the top of it by Scarlet's knife, the blood now crusty. I wipe the left side of my face, just now realising that my cheek is splattered with my own gore.

After about ten minutes of flat out sprinting, I gasp for air and slow to a hurried walk. But I don’t stop moving. I need to get as far from the meadow as I can. As I continue, I take the knife out of my bag and wedge it securely in my belt. I walk for another few hours through the never changing forest until I decide I’m far away enough from the bloodbath and any other tribute. So taking a break, I sit on a felled log and take inventory of my bag. 

An empty water canister, a few water purification tablets, a thin black sleeping bag, a pair of sunglasses, matches and some strips of dried pork. As I lay my meagre items in front of me, the first of the cannons go off.

Every blast of the cannon announces a death. Usually a cannon goes off the moment a tribute is confirmed as dead, but on the first day during the bloodbath, there are so many deaths, the gamemakers can’t keep up. So they wait until the bloodbath has finished to let all cannons off in a row. I count each one, imagining who these cannons are booming for. 

_ Five, six, seven _ . It almost seems endless. As I repack my bag, I continue counting.  _ Eight, nine, ten, eleven _ . Silence. Eleven out of twenty-four dead within the first few hours. Not close to a record but still so many. That’s almost half. As I get to my feet, I see a glint in the trees and see a camera that is trained on me. I wonder if I’m currently live on television. Probably not. It’s probably repeats of the eleven deaths, with the commentators talking in detail about each kill. A girl doing nothing but looking through her bag is not entertaining. But just in case, I grin up at it and give it a cheery wave before I walk on. 

What now? Think Tifa, think. What did Cloud (or even Genesis) say? The answer comes to me as I swallow and I feel my throat is dry and scratchy. Water. I need to find a water source. But the only water source I’ve seen is the lake back at the starting meadow, where I’m sure the Careers have already taken as their own. My lips are chapped and raw as I lick them to try and give them moisture. Even my tongue is as dry as a sunbaked bone. Sweat runs in rivers down my body and I briefly argue with myself whether I should bottle the sweat and drink it. But I’m not dehydrated enough for that yet, so the idea disgusts me. But if I don’t find water soon, it may be a necessity. 

I spend the next hour or so trying to search for any kind of drinkable moisture. But there is nothing. Even the ground under my feet is cracked and dry. Food will be scarce too as there are no animals around either. That’s my first clue that there is no water around, so I change direction. As I wander, I chew on a pork strip. The saltiness makes my mouth even more dry and my stomach cries out for more, too used to the full meals its been having the past week. I now wish I ate more this morning. 

Soon the sky above starts to dim, alerting me that it will be dark soon. I have to halt my search for hydration and go on the hunt for someplace I can use for shelter, preferably somewhere high up. If someone looking for kills came across where I am, the likelihood of them looking up is low. I’d rather not be asleep on the ground if a tribute comes my way. So when I get to a large sturdy looking tree, I waste no time climbing it. By the time I’m high enough that I’m sure I’ll be well hidden, I perch on a thick branch and take my sleeping bag out of my backpack. Then I wrestle my body into the bag and lay down along the length of the branch, my back against the trunk. I slide my belt from my trousers and with difficulty, wrap it around the branch and across my body, effectively strapping myself to the tree, so that if I do nap and roll over, I won’t fall to a humiliating death. I can already sense Cloud's pride at my belt use. 

Then in the night sky, the emblem of Midgar shines, accompanied by the anthem. Through the branches around me, I have a good view of the emblem before the anthem stops and pictures of the fallen and the name of their hometown flash one after the other. Thankfully the pictures are the same ones used when we got our scores and not of the moment of their death. The first image is of the Wutai boy. The next is of the girl from Rocket Town. It passed Junon so Scarlet and Piggy are both still alive. And since it goes straight to Hollander of Mideel, Palmer is around too. With Hollander dead, that’s one less Career I have to contend with. Next is the Mideel girl. After six more images, it ends with the Gongaga male. The anthem plays again and I get one last look at the emblem before both it and the anthem disappear. I sigh with relief. Rude is still alive. As is Red and surprisingly, so is little Marlene. She must have ran for the forest like I had. 

Suddenly exhausted, I settle in for a long night, placing my backpack at my feet inside the sleeping bag. As my eyes start to slide shut, a noise forces me to open them again. My head spins in all directions, trying to find the source of the disturbance, and I soon find it. I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the scream that wants to tear from my throat. Not out of fear but out of anger.

Some idiot tribute has lit a fire! Sure it’s cold, but a fire at night is more or less a large flashing arrow, pointing down at you for all to see, saying here I am, come and kill me. The fire is about thirty metres away from me so I can’t see who it is. Maybe it’s even the Careers being cocky. But whoever it is has no survival skills whatsoever. The wind is sending the smoke in my direction, so I huddle into my sleeping bag, hoping to hide from it. And to also hide my frustration from the cameras that I’m sure are watching me. 

I spend the next few hours seething at the person who lit the fire. In my head, I’m shouting all the profanities I know, and some new ones at them. But as the cold seeps in, I curl up in my bag and talk my way out from getting out of this tree and killing the person myself. In this position, I try again at sleep, but an ear trembling scream slices the air like a hot knife through butter. Whoever the fire starter was, she was female and is now dead. I’m frozen in my bag. I dare not breathe or even blink as I hear footsteps and excited chatter. 

“Stupid bitch,” I hear someone say. I immediately recognise that voice as Scarlets. Shit! “Making a fire. She deserved to die. Couldn’t have her breeding. The people of Bone Village are as dumb as they come.”

The Careers laugh and I grit my teeth as I hear them getting closer to me. I did briefly wonder if Marlene was the one who lit the fire, but she seems too smart to do something so reckless. I feel eyes on me, but not from the Careers. What a nail biting moment this must be for the cameras. Me up in my tree with my greatest enemies right underneath me. The audience must be on the edges of their seats, wondering what will happen next. I wonder that too because they’re right under my tree. If they simply look up, I’m done for, the smoke from the fire can’t shield me from view for too long. The only sound is my heartbeat and even that is too loud. 

“Is she dead?” I hear Palmer ask, his voice weak and weedy. “There was no cannon. There should have been a cannon.”

“Of course she’s dead,” Scarlet scoffs. “I slit her throat. The tracker is just waiting for thirty seconds.”

  
There's a pause that lasts for ten seconds before Piggy speaks up. “It’s been longer than a minute. I don’t think she’s dead yet.”

I hear pacing, dry leaves crunching under their boots. “Fine,” Scarlet snaps. “You! Go and check.”

“Just leave her,” Piggy says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “She won’t survive much longer. Let the swine bleed slowly to death. Elongate the suffering. It’ll make good television.”

“I said what I said,” Scarlet growls. “Lover boy, go and check. Prove yourself to us. If she’s still alive, finish her off.”

  
I hear someone silently leave the group and once they’re from earshot, Piggy scoffs. “Why are we letting him tag along with us? Let's kill him and get it over and done with.”

“Because he’s our best bet at finding _ her _ ,” Scarlet replies. I don’t need to guess who she’s talking about finding. But who is helping them? Who would know where I would travel? 

I almost jump when the cannon goes off. I hear them give a kind of mocking cheer as whoever finished the girl off comes back. I almost fall from my tree when I hear them speak. 

“Done. Barely alive but I got her right in the heart.”

Rude!

No it can’t be! Rude would never join the Careers. But he obviously has. This is a complete act of betrayal. So he’s decided to not act like he loves me and now is helping the Careers hunt me down! I feel like I’m about to puke. I should, just to see their reactions as my vomit hits them. I can’t stop shaking and it's making the leaves next to me rustle. I can’t stop the tremors racing through my body so I just hope no one hears me or thinks to look up. I don’t care if the camera sees the tears in my eyes. Why is Rude with them?!

“Good job,” Palmer says as I clutch my branch and bite my hand to stop screaming. “Not as useless as I thought you’d be.”

“Let’s move so the hovercraft can get her body.” That was Elena, who doesn’t seem as jovial as the others. “We should make camp. We can use that girl's fire.”

  
“No, let’s go back to the meadow and settle there,” Piggy suggests as they finally start to clear out. “At least we’ll have the lake to drink from.”

  
Their talk soon dwindles. Even thirty minutes after they leave, I still can’t move. I can’t tell what is making me motionless. Shock? Fear? Disgust? Betrayal? Maybe all four. I remove my teeth from around my hand and I can taste my own blood. Tears threaten to spill but I push them back, determined not to cry.

I cannot think of a single good reason why Rude has joined Scarlet’s group. After refusing to play my part of the lovers act, did Genesis put his own target on my back as revenge? No, he wouldn’t be that cruel. Maybe the Careers caught Rude and he promised them the reward of Tifa Lockhart if they spared him? I wonder what is going through both mentors' minds right now? Genesis would be emotionless, telling whoever asks that Rude has some kind of cunning plan. Cloud is probably livid. Maybe has even punched Genesis in the face again. If this is some kind of sick plan that Genesis has thought up, then I’m going to have to be the Victor of these Games, just so I can see him again and punch him in the face too. And what do the spectators and sponsors make of this? Surely this betrayal has lost Rude peoples support? Maybe even has people calling for his blood to be spilt. But this might be a good thing for me. I may get some people who pity me and feel so sorry for me, that they send me stuff. My own survival should be my only priority. For a quick moment, I let the camera briefly pick up my clearly upset face, before I pull the sleeping bag over my head. 

My emotions are all over the place and it’s making me tired and sick. I don’t have the energy to mull over Rude’s actions. If he truly has turned his back on me, then he’s just someone else on my kill list. But as I fall into slumber, I remember the kind boy who saved me with a loaf of bread, and I hope, despite everything, that his death is quick and painless. And preferably not by my own hands. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support so far guys. I hope you’re enjoying reading this as much I am writing it :3  
> Also, I’ve just recently got the remake. It’s amazing. I’m not going to hint at stuff in this story so don’t worry about spoilers. But if you don’t already have it, and you’re able to, I advise getting it. Top tier game.  
> And always, stay safe.

I do manage a few hours of fitful sleep. Not enough to be fully rested but enough that I won’t be slow and sluggish. My body protests as I get out of my sleeping bag and shove it back into my backpack. The leaves of the tree give me shade from the sun that is blazing above. It’s going to be another day of aimlessly walking around sweaty and dehydrated. I need to find water today. If I don’t, I won’t see another morning.

Painfully, I scramble down the tree, wincing when I have to drop the last few feet. Curious and wanting for anything useful, I carefully wander to where the girl was killed last night. The fire is completely out and thankfully, her body has already been scooped up by a hovercraft. It must have come as I was sleeping. The bodies of tributes haven’t always been picked up moments after death. They have only started doing so for the last few years due to some tributes resorting to cannibalism. The thought of it makes my stomach flip in sickness. It doesn’t take long for me to find nothing of use. If there had been anything worthy of being taken, then the Careers have it. Or it was taken along with her body. I try to ignore the splashes of dark blood on the grass. Scarlet and Rude didn’t make it a spotless kill.

I dip back under the shade of the trees, my skin already red and itchy with sunburn. As I wander, I don’t come across anything living. No other tributes and no wild animals either. I do spot a few birds hovering around, but they fly away the moment they see me. I look at the knife in my hand. I’m no good at throwing knives, so I won’t be able to throw it and make a kill. I still have a few strips of dried pork in my bag, but I’ll need to use it for emergencies only. 

As I’m walking, my mind drifts back to Rude. The shock of him teaming with the Careers is still deep inside me. I know his ‘love’ for me was a game plan devised by Genesis, but I would have thought it would take longer than one day to figure out that the act wasn’t working for him. I figured Rude would have at least played along with it for a few days before giving up. But you can’t do a lovers act with just one participant. If I had agreed to follow along, would Rude still be with Scarlet and the others? I resist shaking my head. Cloud and I had agreed that I wouldn’t have a part in the plan.

As the day continues and the sun somehow gets even hotter, the idea of collecting my own sweat is becoming very tempting. Even peeing in my bottle crosses my mind but I’m unsure if I could drink it due to all the toxins. It only crosses my mind very briefly, but I decide not to as when I do release the contents of my bladder, the urine is a very dark brown.

My tongue and throat are so dry it’s painful. I can’t even force saliva into my mouth. My tongue is like a cats and it grates against the back of my hand when I lick it free of sweat. But after another hour of aimless wandering, my body has no more moisture to release and I don’t even sweat. The corners of my vision are dark and I can barely think due to the pounding headache that came along a few hours before. The only luck I have is that the sun has already passed its peak. I’ll have maybe another hour or two of light before I have to find another hiding spot for the night. This day has been spent doing nothing. 

I have to wrap my arms around a tree when I lose my footing and stumble forward, the bark shredding the palms of my hands. I bonelessly flop to the ground, my vision fuzzy and my hands stinging in pain. I try to get back up, but my foot slips along the mud and I crash onto my face, my nose giving an audible crunch. I can’t even shed a tear at the pain.

This is it. This is how I die. Almost two days of no water and I’m already out of the Games. I’m so pathetic. How did I ever think I had a chance at winning? I have no strength left in me. If another tribute came across me, even Marlene, I wouldn’t be able to fight them off. Even breathing is a struggle and laborious effort. I shut my eyes and plant my cheek on the ground, enjoying the coolness that the dirt is giving me. I sigh in relief as the mud damps my clammy skin, ready to fall asleep forever. I let my last thought be of my brother. Who would have thought that mud would feel so relaxing?

Wait!  _ Wait _ ! Mud? Mud is only caused when water and earth meet. 

My head suddenly snaps up and in desperation, I grab the wet dirt in my hands and stare at it. Without thinking I begin to crawl. If there’s mud, there must be moisture and I need to find it. There was no rain last night or this morning so why is the ground wet? I find the answer when one of my grasping hands lands in a small pool of water. I cry out in joy and not caring what I must look like to the watchers, I fling my whole body head first into the little pond. I don’t care about bacteria as I take in a mouth full of brown water and swallow it down. I’m desperate to just continue drinking all of it, but that one mouthful was enough to kick my brain back into survival mode. With haste and trembling fingers, I grab my bottle and fill it up with water, then add one of the water purification tablets. All I have to do is wait thirty minutes then I’ll have more delicious water to guzzle. So as I wait, I stay in my little pool, floating on my back, not wanting to leave it. The sun is still blazing up above and my body being soaked feels so good. I run the water through my greasy hair, over my dirt caked face and all over my arms and legs. If the pool was big enough, I would be swimming. I chuckle as the image comes to mind.

After what I estimate to be thirty minutes, tears actually spring into my eyes as I sip the water. So pleased with myself, I take a pork strip out of my soaked bag and, still floating in the water, I enjoy my first ‘meal’ of being in the arena. I give a mocking toast to any camera watching and hum happily as I chew and drink. But it’s short lived as I’m interrupted by a cannon. That’s thirteen down, eleven of us left. Ten more to die. 

I down the rest of my bottle and fill it up again, adding the tablet and getting out of my little water source. I try to use the mud to cover my bag since it’s bright pink and will stick out when I need to hide. It’s not completely camouflaged but it’ll do. With the metal packet my tablets came in, I tear a bit off and wedge it in the bark of a nearby tree, almost like a marker of where this pool is if I ever need to find it again. 

With a big dopey grin on my face, I take my soaking hair into my hands and attempt to wring it out, but as I’m doing so, I spot something super bright in the distance. I don't get a chance to turn my head before I’m flown from my feet and my leg screams out in pain. 

Winded, I roll to my feet, and I have to dive as another fireball rockets towards me. It’s then that I notice the wall of fire around me and the wild animals that weren’t present before are closing in on me. I start running too, heavy due to my water logged clothes and I’m almost taken out by another fireball. The fire is so close, it singes the tips of my hair. But I don’t have time to check if I’m on fire or not. I use my knife to cut vines from my path as I run. Even with my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I hear the sound of another cannon. Possibly someone who hasn’t escaped the flames. 

I jump as I come to a ditch, screaming in agony as I land awkwardly on my injured leg. I get enough time to look at the damage and wish I hadn’t as vomit threatens to surge up my throat. A huge chunk of my right thigh is bright red and heavily bleeding. I can almost hear my own skin sizzle. But I need to continue unless I want to be burnt to a crisp. Biting my lip so hard it bleeds, I get back up and continue running, not daring to glance back at the blaze behind me. 

This is not a campfire that has gone out of control. I’ve watched enough of past Hunger Games to know that this is manmade. Made by the gamemakers to get tributes moving. To herd tributes towards one another and get the action going. I wonder where this fire is leading me, but my only guess is that I’m headed for the Careers. 

Or maybe this is revenge for my actions back during my evaluation. After the humour of the moment passed, I did fear that the gamemakers would want revenge. They obviously don’t like being humiliated. 

I cover my head and duck once again as I hear another fireball being flung at me. It explodes into the side of the trees I’m under and I wince as fire rains down on my head and shoulders. I take a split second to see if I’m on fire. I’m not so I sprint on, urging my injured leg to continue. It protests but works with my left leg to keep me ahead of the inferno. 

I suddenly burst into a clearing and I have time to give a yelp of surprise as I’m flung into a stream. I gasp for breath and as I’m flailing to stay afloat, I blindly spin in the water and watch the fire stop by the side of the stream and after a few moments, recede. I take in much needed air, my lungs desperate for oxygen, and attempt to relax. My vision fuzzy, I glance around. 

Ok, where am I? The fire has stopped but I’m now in the open and have no idea what direction I'm in. I swim to the other side of the stream and flop onto the ground. I look up at the cloudless sky above me and let out a little chuckle. After almost dying of thirst, it's comical to me that a large body of water wasn’t too far away from the little pool I found. The fire has probably burnt the little bit of metal I put as a marker for the pond. My chuckle turns into a gasp as I’m reminded of my injury.

My leg is in excruciating agony. It needs treatment as soon as possible. So when I get my breath back, I cup some water in my hands and attempt to clean the wound. I have to bite my shoulder as the burn sizzles and bubbles. Using the knife, I cut a long strip off my shirt and tie it around the burn. It’s not much but it’s all I can do. I need proper medication. 

I sit for a few minutes just getting my breath back. The scent of burnt wood assaults my nostrils and injured animals cross the river and run past me. I should try and take one down to eat for later, but I have no energy and my burnt leg refuses to move. The sound of running water soothes me and I feel my eyes begin to slide shut. But as a gust of wind ghosts over my skin and makes me shiver, I take it as my que to move.

Using a thick branch as aid, I get up and glance around. This side of the forest is the same as the other side, just less burnt. The only positive I find is the burnt carcasses of rabbits and hares, ones that successfully got across but died due to their injuries.. With ease, I find a fat one and strip it free of it’s fur and take a huge bite out of the raw meat. Blood runs down my chin and neck. I finish off the meat and put two more rabbits in my bag for later. When alone, I’ll risk a small fire and cook them both up before moving on. 

I have to get to someplace safe. Even a ditch would be more safe than being here out in the open for anyone to find me. The trees ahead of me are all tall and sturdy if I need to scramble up one. My best bet with my injury would be to find a hole I can hide in and try and cover myself with leaves and moss. Now I wish I spent more time at the camouflage station during my week in the training centre. 

I startle as I hear an excited shout behind me. I turn and my blood runs cold. The Careers are crossing the stream and from their grins, they’ve spotted me. I curse my leg and start running again, but I can’t even make it a few metres before I fall to the ground. I’ll never be able to outrun them. So without thinking, I ditch my branch and climb up the nearest tree. I’m halfway up before the Careers catch up.

“Come down little squirrel,” Scarlet laughs. “Come and play with us.”

  
Laughter follows me as I climb higher, trying my hardest to forget the pain coming from my leg. I have to flatten myself against the trunk when I hear a whoosh past my ear and look down as another arrow flies up and slams into the bark where my hand was a few moments before. 

Someone has  _ my  _ bow! I try not to let that bother me as I grab the arrow and wave it tauntingly at them. I see Elena notch another arrow but Scarlet pushes the bow down, probably smart enough to see that Elena is doing nothing but waste arrows.

“Fancy seeing you lot here on this fine day,” I shout down, refusing to let them know how terrified I am. I put the arrow between my teeth and continue going up. I’m light enough that I can reach pretty high. Years of lack of food has made me slim and weightless. As I get up as far as I can go before the branches are too weak to hold my weight, I settle on a sturdy branch and sit on it, looking down at the Careers who are all watching me. I try not to be unsettled when I lock gazes with Rude. 

“I’m so happy to see you again, Tifa,” Scarlet mocks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You are my favourite person after all. And here you are.”

“Here I am.” I echo. “How have the Games been for you so far?”

Scarlet looks shocked at my cheery attitude, but comes back with her own retort. “We’re doing great. Killing weaklings. Yourself?”

I chuckle. “Good. Really good. But you know, it’s seriously boring being up here on my own. And with you being my best friend Scar, why don’t you join me? There’s plenty of space and the view is great.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough to talk about to rid you of your boredom,” Scarlet says. “My BFF. I can’t have you feeling lonely.”

She puts her knife in between her teeth, shucks off her jacket and begins to climb. I ready my own knife. I have the high ground and I’ll slice at her pretty face the moment she gets close enough. But she only makes it up a few metres before she grabs a weak branch which snaps under her weight and she falls all the way down. I wince at the crunch as her spine slams against the ground. I make sure she hears my mocking laughter as she lets out as many curse words as she can. “I think that’s a sign that you need to go on a diet!” I call. I know I shouldn’t be taunting them, but it’s all I can do up here. And also, I know that the cameras are watching and I need as many people on my side as I can get. Especially now.

“I’ll get her,” Piggy says eagerly, ready to please.

“Idiot,” Scarlet snarls at him, getting up and shoving him harshly. “If those branches can’t hold my weight, they’ll have no chance of holding your fat ass. Shut the fuck up!” she adds to Palmer who tries to calm her. 

“I’m waiting,” I call. “I thought we were going to have a nice chat, Scarlet?”

“Just you wait, Nibelheim,” she shouts up. “You can’t stay up there forever.” She turns to her fellow Careers who jump to attention like good little soldiers. “Someone make a fire. We’ll burn the slut down!”

“I’ll just jump to the next tree,” I say in a sing-song voice. The trees next to me are close enough to do so, but I know that my leg wouldn’t be able to take it. But they don’t know that. My only advantage here is that they don’t know that I’m injured.

Scarlet growls like a feral dog. “We’ll just wait until she comes down then! But I get to kill the bitch, you all hear?”

They mumble and disperse. Scarlet looks up at me and I give her a little wave, wiggling all of my fingers. I try to show confidence that I don’t have. I’m not leaving this tree anytime soon so I make myself comfortable. I remove my belt and tie myself to the branch. I hold my bag in my arms and take out my water, soothing my raw throat. 

With a groan, I untie the fabric around my leg and tip some of the water onto the wound. With the Careers under me, I have to hold back my moans of pain. I rebandage the burn and lean against the trunk of the tree. The Careers are not going to leave until I’m dead. If not by their hands, either by thirst, hunger or falling. Out of the three, I have less water on me. Or maybe even my injury will end me. It is probably infected. 

From the corner of my eye, I see the glint of a camera. Twisting my face, I try not to look as scared as I feel. I’m sure I’m currently live. This is a big moment after all. A repeat of last night with me up a tree and my biggest threat under me. The difference is that they know where I am. 

From up here, I hear snippets of their conversations of what they’ll do if they win. Scarlet can’t wait to be crowned Victor but she wants me dead before she moves on to the other tributes. Piggy is talking about how big the cake he is going to commission will be after he wins. Palmer wants to talk with President Shinra about getting the space program up and running again since Rocket Town was a town of space exploration before it was changed by Midgar to technology. Elena just wants to see her parents again and Rude doesn’t say a single word. 

As night comes, I snuggle into my sleeping bag and try to ignore the people who have set up camp under my tree. They have a campfire going and are talking casually in hushed voices. The only plan I have is to get out of this tree without being noticed and leave before they realize I’m gone. 

I hear the anthem begin and even the Careers go silent as the faces of the dead are shown. Only three. The girls from Bone Village and Wutal and the Corel boy. As the anthem ends, I try to get comfortable on my branch. I toss and turn and if it wasn’t for my belt, I almost fall. I’m too in pain to sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, my leg gives a huge pulse of agony. As I pour more water onto it, I hear a beeping just a few feet away from me. I turn and my eyes widen. It’s a silver parachute carrying a little metal tin. Oh my God! A gift from a sponsor! Is it mine or did it get stuck in the branches on it’s way down? I don’t care because I’m risking getting it. 

I have to take the belt from around my waist and climb up a little higher until I manage to get to it. I sit back and waste no time opening the tin. I almost burst into tears. I stare right into the camera and mouth my thanks as I twist the lid open. 

Green and mushy, the burn cream smells terrible, but I waste no time dipping all of my fingers into it and scooping some of it out. I sigh as I rub it gently on the burn. I instantly feel the pain subside as I use up half of the tin, slathering my leg inch thick with it. Once done, I go to put the tin into my bag when I spot something white on the lid, something I didn’t notice in my desperation to open it. 

On a tiny slice of paper, in Clouds neat handwriting are the words:  _ Look up _ .

And I do just that. Above where I’m sat, a few metres above from where the parachute landed is a large hive belonging to a colony of Tracker Jackers. 


	11. Chapter 11

My heart thuds against my chest as I watch the large hornet like insects swarm around their hive. Tracker Jackers are about the size of a clenched fist, with a stinger about half their body length. Their poison is said to be extremely painful, where multiple strings can be lethal. It’s also said that their stings cause mind melting hallucinations. I’ve also heard rumours that their posion is used as a form of torture, used to get important information. Tracker Jackers are not naturally evolved bugs. They were genetically modified by Midgar for use during the rebellion. Many rebellion secrets were spilled to Midgar due to Tracker Jacker torture. 

I glance at the note again and I immediately see what Cloud is suggesting. To cut the hive down and drop it onto the Careers below. But if I do what he’s saying, I’m at risk too. But it’s probably the only chance I have. I don’t know when my leg will be healed enough to be able to jump to another tree, and those below are not going to leave until I’m dead. The only chance they have of leaving is if the gamemakers spring another trap, like the fire before. But even then I’m not safe. I must be crazy, but I’m going to do it. 

I have to wait for a while before the Careers are asleep. I’m super lucky that they didn’t assign someone as a lookout. They’re probably confident that I’m not going anywhere or that no other tributes will come along. If I’m doing this, I have to move now. 

Gritting my teeth, I repack my bag and start to climb. The hive is hung between a lot of the weaker branches, so I have to test every single one before I put any weight onto it. My body is shaking in fear and anticipation. It only takes a few minutes, but I’m already exhausted by the climb, and my injured leg is angrilly protesting any movement. But I’m in reaching distance of the hive. With all the strength I can muster, I take my knife from my belt and use the jagged side to saw at the branch holding the Tracker Jackers. As I do, my eyes swap between my task and the Careers below, praying to every deity that none of them wake up and see what I’m attempting to do. 

I feel a sharp jab in the side of my neck and I let out a gasp as I clutch at it. Already a large lump is forming where I was strung. Trying not to cry out in pain, I saw even faster. The bugs know I’m here and what I’m doing. I feel another string on the back of my hand and I almost drop the knife in shock. But I’m over halfway through the branch. I just need a few more minutes. I try not to look at the blooming purple wound growing on the back of my hand as I continue. I feel one last sting on my cheek as the branch sags. My vision goes dizzy as the branch no longer is able to take the weight of the large hive and plummets to the floor. 

The hive explodes on the ground and it’s mayhem as the bugs swarm out of their broken home and aim for the nearest living thing. Which in this case is the Careers. As I begin to slowly climb down the tree, I hear thunderous screaming and scrambling. I’m low enough down to see Rude and Scarlet using their jackets as protection as they run away into the trees. Piggy and Palmer bump into each other as they escape, most of the Tracker Jackers following them. Elena is not so lucky. As she’s screaming, she tumbles to the ground and starts convulsing. She’s covered in hundreds of egg sized bumps. Her arms and legs are flailing wildly and it makes the Tracker Jackers more angry as they stab her skin over and over again with their sharp stingers. Elena lets out one last horrible scream, blood filled froth foaming out of her wide open mouth, the bugs crawling down her throat. 

Unable to hold my weight as my vision tilts, I let go of the tree and slam to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I scramble to my feet and I feel super lightheaded. I’m not sure if it’s real or a hallucination, but the trees around me start to melt. The brown of their trunks bleed into the grass and climb up my legs. I kick at the brown, splashing it like paint around me. It covers and engulfs the twitching body laid at my feet. As something loud bongs in the distance, a bright pink butterfly flutters into view. The butterfly has Jenova's head and is also wearing a large green wig of spikes and curls. The Jenova-butterfly points with it’s wing at the person I’m stood above. I can’t see who it is but something in their hand shines like diamonds. Whatever it is, I know I want it. 

I reach out to take it, ignoring the millions of tiny black spiders that crawl around my arm, burying under my skin and scurrying around my torso and neck. The body is covered in purple egg sized bumps, and I watch in morbid curiosity as they all burst and bright white roses spiral out of them. The leaves of the roses caress my face, my hair, my whole body. 

Once the sparkly diamond thing is in my hand, I step back from the beautiful roses as their petals turn into mouths and start talking to me. I lean in, trying to hear what they’re saying. 

“Tifa! Tifa!”

Oh hey! That’s me. Or is it? I’m Tifa? Is that a name? What is a Tifa? What does it do? Who needs it? Do I have a Tifa to give them?

I rub my eyes and suddenly, there is someone in front of me. He has dark skin and almost no hair. But his dark eyes are large and staring into my own. I feel his hands on my shoulders and he starts to shake me. I feel my brain rattle inside of my skull.

“No,” I moan, trying to fight him off. “The flowers need me. They want a Tifa.”

“Tifa,” the person shouts again. “What are you still doing here? For God’s sake! Run!”

“Can’t,” I mumble as the boys eyes balloon in size until they pop, more spiders leaking out of the now empty sockets. “The brown . . . too heavy.”

“Just run!” he screams. “Please, get out of here!”

Just then, for a split moment, my vision and head clears. I jump as Rude stares at me, his hands shoving me away. His whole face shows fear and urgency. Then the hallucinations come back and he suddenly has long blue hair, growing impossibly long from his head. The hair swishes gloriously as he turns, something blurry and yellow slamming into him and knocking him into the brown. 

All I know is that the yellow is dangerous so not wanting to be hurt by the yellow thing, I turn and do as the blue haired person said to do. I run as fast as I can. Around me more Jenova-butterflies chase after me, thousands of them, all of them shouting in unison. “We’re on a schedule.” Up ahead I see Cloud in the distance and I race to get to him. But as I leap into his open arms, he disappears and I slam into something hard. I shake my head free of pulsating gold stars and I scream when maggots fly from my hair. As I’m running, the brown grabs at my feet, but I jump when it gets too close. I don’t know how far I’ve gone when a giant mouth comes up from the ground and snaps me up between its large teeth. All turns to black as the mouth closes around me.

* 

I hear gentle humming as I regain consciousness. As I open my eyes, I expect to still be in the mouth of whatever snapped me up, but I am on my back in an open patch of field, surrounded by the trees of the forest, the leaves and branches shielding me from the sun. 

As I sit up, the flowers, weeds and grass that covers me fall and pool around my waist. My eyes sting and as I lift my arms to rub them, I notice a large leaf is wrapped around one of my hands. I feel something sticky against my cheek and as I reach up, my fingertips caress another leaf. 

Where am I? Obviously somewhere in the forest. I try to remember. All I remember is dropping the Tracker Jacker hive onto the Careers and then falling to the floor before I began hallucinating. Something with butterflies, roses, brown and a person telling me to run. Not just any person. Rude. I know that the crazy stuff wasn’t real but what about Rude? Was that real or was he just a part of my imagination? He must have been, as he was telling me to run. He had plenty of time to kill me but didn’t, so I guess he was an hallucination too. 

I stand and I’m suddenly aware or something clutched tightly in my hand. It’s the bow! I must have taken it from Elena's body. I do remember something very shiny that I needed to get. I don’t remember grabbing the quiver of arrows but it’s right there at my feet. I grab it and sling it over my shoulder. I reach into my bag and take out my water canister, glad to find that it’s still full. The water is warm but pleasant as it runs down my throat. I also finish off the last of my pork strips.

My leg has completely healed now, the skin no longer red or tender. And my stings are gone too. The leaves wrapped around my hand, cheek and neck have done something to heal them. But that suddenly makes me think. Who wrapped my wounds with these leaves and why? I know I didn’t do it myself because I was too out of it to do anything. 

I glance around and see something move behind me. Something rustles behind one of the trees and I get a similar feeling that I had back in the training centre. When eyes were on me and following me around. My little shadow. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, my voice croaky. I cough to clear my throat. “Marlene, did you help me?”

“Yes”.

Short and simple, one word but it’s enough. I smile softly as Marlene peeps around the tree, her brown eyes wide. She watches me as I put my bow on the ground, trying not to startle her. “Don’t be scared. I’m not with the Careers.”

“I know,” she says softly. 

“You know, those guys aren’t the only ones that can team up?” I smile.

“Like ally’s?” Marlene squeaks. 

“Like ally’s,” I echo. “How about it? You and me?”

“You really want me as an ally?” she asks, leaving the comfort of the tree and coming closer to me. Apart from being a little dirty, she looks in perfect health, not a single mark on her. “Why?”

“I do,” I say. “And because you’ve survived quite well on your own and you’ve helped me.” I lift my leaf covered hand to indicate what I mean.

She shrugs. “I had help in the beginning. But Coates died in the fire.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I mumble, not honestly sorry. “Can you tell me how long ago that fire was?”

“Two days,” she answers. “I found you passed out in the grass so I covered your stings and hid you under some plants and weeds. The leaves suck out the venom and reduces the swelling. I also used up the cream in your bag for your leg. It’s all healed now.”

“How did you know to use these leaves?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Her chest rises with pride. “My daddy told me. He taught me loads to help me survive.”

Her dad? Oh right. Barret Wallace, a former Victor for Corel. Of course he would be her mentor for the Games, telling her as much as he can. His knowledge has probably helped her survive this far. Knowledge that I’ll need.

I snort, hoping that the camera microphones pick up what I say next. “I wish my mentor was that helpful.”

She laughs and the sound makes me grin. Despite gender, Marlene reminds me a lot of Denzel. They’re the same age and around the same height. They both bring out my protective big sister side. And despite the horrors surrounding them, they both see the positives in everything.

“Hungry?” I ask as I pick up my bow. “I think the rabbits in my bag are still good to eat. Just need to build a fire to cook them. I’m rusty at firemaking so it’ll take a few minutes if you don’t mind waiting?”

“Oh,” she says brightly. “I’ve got us covered for that.”

She reaches into her own bag and takes out a few lumps of coal and a small green marble. I watch as she puts on a pair of leather gloves and puts the coal in a pile. Then she holds the green marble in her palm and after a few moments, fire springs from it and lights the coals. The coals turn immediately white hot. She grins up at me.

“Huh,” is all I can say.

“Coal is much better than a fire. No light to guide in enemies and no smoke either. It’ll take longer to cook the rabbit with it, but it’s much safer.”

“Where did you get it from?” I ask, kneeling next to the coals as I begin to skin one of the rabbits. 

“From a sponsor back home,” she says, her eyes following the movements of my knife. “Corel is a mining town.”

“And that?” I nod to the green marble still clutched in her hand.

She chuckles. “It’s called Materia. Coal isn’t as much use to Midgar anymore. But luckily, the Corel mines have Materia in them too. This came with the first batch of coal.”

“Materia,” I say as she passes it to me. It really does look like a pretty marble, the surface cool and smooth. I’ve never heard of it before. “Magic ball?”

“I guess,” Marlene shrugs. “They’re very rare so I’m super lucky someone sent me it. It’s too low levelled to be able to do any harm but it’s perfect to light the coals. I’m too young for the mines so I don’t know much more”.

“How do I activate it?” I ask, holding it out in front of me. “Chant some magic words in my head?”

“Just concentrate and imagine fire coming out of it,” she says. She blushes since all I can do is stare dumbly. “It’s, uhh, hard to explain.”

I try to do as she instructs but nothing happens. The ball stays nice and cool in my palm. I hand it back over and skewer the now skin free rabbit with an arrow and hold it over the coal. “Two days,” I mumble, thinking over the time I’ve been unconscious. “Who else is, you know...”

“Dead?” she asks. I nod. “Just that smaller blonde girl who was with the Careers.”

  
“Elena?” I say. She nods in confirmation. Guilt washes over me but it was her or me. “Has anyone come close to us since I’ve been passed out?”

“Nope,” she answers. “The Tracker Jackers must have chased them far away in the opposite direction. I think the two fat boys went to the stream to hide from them. It’s been really quiet here. I’ve just been eating the berries I’ve found and getting water from the stream. Don’t worry, I’ve been looking out for you.”

I lump builds in my throat. I want to thank her but I can’t see why she would help me. I’m her enemy. She should have just slit my throat and moved on. I would have done the same if I was in her position. “Why?”

“Corel people don’t like owing people,” she explains. “You helped me back in the training centre. Now we’re even.”

The image of Scarlet aiming a loaded bow at the girl in front of me comes to mind. Thoughtlessly I had stood in the path of the arrow. Looking back at it now, it was stupid. “She wouldn’t have fired,” I mumble. “It would have caused too much trouble. And she’s not as dumb as she looks.”

“But still,” Marlene says. “I couldn’t not help you after that.”

Thinking of Scarlet brings the Career pack into the forefront of my mind. “Do you know where the Careers are now?”

She thinks for a moment. “Back at the beginning with the cornucopia. They’ve gathered all the food and weapons for themselves there. They spend the day there and the night searching for people. Coates and I went back there the first day and saw it. The food is in a big pile. They leave someone there as a guard when they hunt other tributes.”

“What kind of food?”

“Strips of meat, berries, apples and nuts. All the stuff that came from the backpacks.”

But no fresh meat from animals my mind supplies. That gets me thinking. Of course the ones with the least worries would have no problems going back to the start and hoarding all the goodies. They’ll have an endless supply of weapons and enough food to last them until the end of the Games. And that’s before they get anything from sponsors. But despite all of the weapon choices, none of them took anything that could be used for hunting. The only thing useful to bring down prey was the bow, and Elena could barely use it. So maybe, Scarlet, Piggy and Palmer don’t know how to hunt. They come from rich areas, so why would they need to hone those kind of skills? The food from the bags is probably the only nutritions that they have. An idea forms in my head.

“If we can destroy their food supply,” I tell Marlene. “That could help weaken them. They’re skilled in killing other people but I’d bet that none of them know how to bring down an animal, let alone skin or cook it. Nor do they have the knowledge of what plants and berries are edible and which are deadly. Do you follow?”

“Hope that they’ll eat something poisonous?” Her large brown eyes get even bigger. “Starve them to death?”

“Or weaken them enough that they can be easily overpowered,” I add. I lift up my quiver and notice that there are only three arrows in it, four in total when I add the one I’m using to skewer the rabbit. Nowhere near enough to both hunt and defend myself. “At full strength, we can’t beat them.”

As she ponders the idea, I test the meat of the rabbit. It’s done. I use my knife to cut parts of it off and my mouth waters as I pass one of the legs to Marlene. She trembles with excitement as she takes it into her tiny hands and brings it up to her mouth for a large bite.

“Wow,” she hums as she chews. “I’ve been living off just berries since the start of the Games. And Daddy was only letting me eat boring healthy stuff when mentoring me. Yummy, this is really good, Tifa.”

“Probably not as good as what Midgar offers, but it’s better than nothing” I reply. I don’t care what I look like when I bite into the other leg and juices run down my chin. I lick grease off my lips and fingers and close my eyes. I visualise my stomach singing joyfully as it takes in all of the food. 

As Marlene nibbles, she points to my chest. “Did you get that from him?”

I look down, trying to see what she’s talking about. Nothing but my clothing, food juices and the gold Fenrir pin. I had completely forgotten about it. I unpin it from my shirt and look at it. There’s not a single scratch or mark on it. It’s the only thing I have on me that isn’t damaged in some way. Marlene leans closer to see it and I hand it to her, telling her the myth of the Fenrir wolf.

“It’s pretty,” she says, handing it back. “He must really love you if he gave you it.”

I arch my brow. How does she know about Cloud other than him being a past Victor? She might recognise the pin as it did become a brief fashion statement after his win, but only Cloud, Genesis, Rude and I know that Cloud became my personal mentor. And only we know how close I and the blond got. But love? No way.

“He gave it to me just before we came up here.” I answer. “As I was still on the starting platform during the one minute countdown.”

She cocks her head in confusion.“Huh? They let you stay in the same room before starting the Games? I thought he’d be in a different room.”

This confuses me. What is she talking about? “What do you mean in a different room? Didn’t your dad stay with you until the last second?”

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s because he’s my mentor. Coates was in another room with our other mentor.”

What does Coates have to do with this? I glance back at the pin as I try to work out what Marlene is saying. Nibelheim and Corel speak the same language but I’m so confused, she might as well be talking in an alien dialect. “Why would Cloud be in another room?”

“Cloud?” she says. “I’m not asking about your mentor. I’m asking about the Nibelheim boy.”

“Rude?” I splutter. Understanding dawns on me. She thinks Rude gave me the pin. I shake my head. “Cloud gave me this, not Rude.”

“But why would your mentor give you that and not Rude?” she asks. “Wouldn’t Rude be jealous? He is your boyfriend after all.”

I drop my half eaten rabbit leg on the floor, stunned. “My boy- . . . my what? He’s not . . . Rude and I aren’t. Why do you think he’s my boyfriend?”

“After the interview,” she explains. “He said he liked you. I just presumed you got together after that. We all did.”

I shake my head. I want to tell her that Rudes ‘feelings’ for me were an act thought up by Genesis. If Rude was no longer living, I would have, but since he’s still out there, I don’t want to tarnish his odds. If he’s still doing the lovers act, and I think he is if my hallucination of him was real, then I don’t want to call his bluff and anger any of his potential sponsors. I owe him that much for defending me from Scarlet. And I’ll never forget what he did for me with that bread all those years ago.

“Eat your rabbit,” I urge her, changing the subject. “Then we’ll think up a plan on how to rid the Careers of that food.”

She looks like she wants to continue questioning me, but I turn away from her and slice more meat free from the rabbit carcass. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“What for?” I ask.

She shifts where she sits. “For teaming up with me. Anyone else would have killed me. But instead you’re feeding me.”

I smirk. “You helped me first, and the people of Nibelheim don’t like owing people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coates is based on Mr Coates who is in the desert prison under the Gold Saucer. Seemed fitting to have him as the Corel male tribute.


	12. Chapter 12

The coals do well to keep us warm for the night. Now that there are two of us, we don’t spend the night up in a tree. After being passed out for two days, sleep eludes me. I keep watch as Marlene sleeps, curled up like a cat and looking even smaller than usual. 

I really like Marlene. She’s smart and trustworthy. I know she’ll be a big help against the Careers. We’ll watch each other's backs until all other tributes are done with. But when it’s just the two of us left, what will happen? I can’t even imagine firing an arrow at Marlene, and I doubt she’ll find it easy to harm me back. I understand that this is a temporary alliance, but if it helps both of us to survive as long as possible, I’m happy to keep it. 

She startles awake when a cannon booms in the distance. She glances around, bleary eyed, and flinches when she spots me. Once realising that I’m not a threat, she sighs and sits up. 

“Who died?” she asks as she rubs her eyes.

“We’ll soon see.” I tell her. 

She grimly nods and arches her head to the black sky, waiting for the emblem to pop up. It does a few minutes later. I don’t recognize the face that appears after the anthem, but Marlene confirms that it’s not the tribute who is guarding the Careers food. 

“I think it’s the boy from Icicle Village who they’re using,” she says. She hums for a few moments, thinking. “Eight of us left now.”

And we’re all spread around the arena. Marlene and I are here. Scarlet, Piggy, Palmer and the Icicle Village boy are at the cornucopia. And that leaves Rude and Red in unknown places. I doubt Rude is still with the Careers after he helped me when I was under the influence of the Tracker Jacker venom. Wherever he is, I hope he’s safe. 

“I never thought I’d get this far,” Marlene chuckles. “I thought I’d be out the first day. If it wasn’t for Coates, I would be dead.”

“How did he help you?” I ask. 

“He attacked Heidegger when he had hold of me,” she says. “I was trying to grab a bag closer to the cornucopia and Heidegger grabbed me and tried to strangle me. Coates hit him over the head and dragged me into the forest. He gave me these gloves to keep my hands warm. He died due to that fire.”

I smile and silently thank Coates for saving her life. But I do wonder why. They’re both from Corel but tributes from the same area are not obligated to help one another. My query must show on my face because Marlene answers my unasked question. “My daddy saved his life in the mines a few months ago. When we were both reaped, Coates said he’d pay daddy back by helping me here.”

“Your dad is a Victor. He doesn’t need to work.” I say.

“He likes helping people,” Marlene shrugs. “He’ll do anything for anyone. Especially the ones closest to him. He and my real dad were close friends. I was only a baby when my parents died in a mine collapse. Daddy took me in even though he was told not to. Only biological children can stay with a Victor but daddy didn’t care. He says he pissed off a lot of important people in Midgar by taking me in.” She flinches but then giggles behind her hands. “I’m not allowed to swear. Oops.”

“We won’t tell your dad that you did,” I laugh, not mentioning that the cameras are around us watching our every movement. But I guess swearing is Barrets least worries surrounding Marlene right now. I wonder if he’s grilling Cloud and Genesis about me, asking if I’m safe enough to ally with his daughter. No sponsor parachute has come down telling her to get away, so I guess I passed the test. 

“If we want to weedle out the Careers as soon as possible, we should get rid of their food tomorrow morning,” I tell her. “It’ll be too dangerous to do it at night.”

“But they’ll be at the conrucopia during the day,” she points out. 

“We’ll use a distraction to lead them away,” I supply, thinking up a plan on the fly. “Fire smoke maybe. And when they’re gone, I’ll go to the cornucopia and… and...” 

And do what? Set everything on fire? Grow impossibly massive arms and carry everything away with me? Sit and eat everything before the Careers come back? 

With a groan, I lean back into the grass under me and cover my face with my hands, not wanting the cameras to zoom onto my frustrated face. Marlene giggles. “You’ll think of something, Tifa.”

“ _We’ll_ think of something,” I mumble. "Two brains are better than one. Any ideas?”

There's silence. All I can hear is owls in the trees hooting at one another, and bugs scuttling around us. I even hear the croak of a toad or frog, telling me that we’re not too far from a pond. The stream isn’t far from here, so I don’t need to go looking for it when extreme thirst comes back to haunt me.

“Four arrows,” Marlene says slowly. “There’ll be four of them at the cornucopia.”

“That’ll mean four perfect shots,” I reply, sitting up. “I’m great but not amazing. If I miss one, it’s over. They'll come chasing after me and they won’t stop.” 

Marlene deflates. “You’re right. Then I have nothing. The only thing you can do is burn everything. But fire won’t destroy the weapons and if it moves too slowly, the Careers can simply run back and put it out. Then after, they’ll be more cautious of any distractions.”

“I’ll figure something out,” I sigh. “Go back to sleep. Sunrise is hours away.”

She hesitates but eventually curls back into a cat like ball and closes her eyes. A few moments later, her light snores join in the chorus of the nocturnal wildlife around us. As I sit watching her, I try to come up with a reliable plan to steal or destroy the Careers food. But nothing comes to mind. If I have to destroy it, it needs to be done in one go. I can’t sit there ruining it bit by bit. Any distraction we make won’t last forever. It’ll take only a few moments for the Careers to figure out that they’re being led away, so they will come running back. And if I’m still there when they return, I’m dead.

My mind wanders as I sit and watch the stars in the sky. No one disturbs us and no more cannons penetrate the night. Glancing at the moon, I think about home. Dad and Denzel and Reno. Are they still awake? And if they are, are they watching me on their screens or are they too looking at the moon? Has dad shaped up and begun being a father? Denzel needs him more than ever. And Reno. How is he doing? Probably still hunting in the forest, catching more than usual to make up for my absence. I trust that he’s caring for my family. If there’s anyone in Nibelheim outside my family I know I can trust, then it’s him. We’ve had each other's backs since we were little kids. A shooting star catches my eye and I silently wish for much more than it can offer. A plan. Dad, Denzel and Reno’s wellbeing. I hope that Rude is ok and that Cloud and Genesis are being useful somewhere.

At the end, I wish to survive.

*

Marlene and I gather as many nuts and berries as we can hold so we can have a filling breakfast. The coal has all crumbled into bits so I’m unable to cook up the other rabbit in my bag. Marlene looks refreshed and happy, full with decent food and dreamless sleep. As she eats, she talks.

“I think we should use a fire to distract them. A few of them so they spend more time searching them. That’ll give us more time to get at the food.”

“Us?” I ask. “You’re not going with me to the cornucopia, it’ll be too dangerous. But I like your idea about multiple fires. That’ll be your job. You’re quick on your feet and you know how to use that Materia. We’ll build a few fire camps and you’ll go from one to the other, lighting them up. Then hide. I’ll find you when it’s safe.”  
“How will you find me?” she asks. “This forest is huge. Anything can happen so you won’t know where I’ll run to.”

She’s right. I don’t answer that question as we finish eating and set our plan into motion. Together, we head closer to the centre of the arena, close enough that the Careers there will spot the smoke. About half an hour's walk between each other, we build three mounds of twigs, leaves and plants. Once they’re all lit and the Careers gone, I should have enough time to figure out how to get rid of the food and get a safe distance away. And the trees around are tall enough that if needed, Marlene can get up one like I had, and not worry about being followed up it. 

When the mounds are complete, I turn to Marlene with a smile full of confidence that I don’t feel. “Ready to do this?”

“We still need to have a signal that helps us find each other,” she insists, hands on her hips. “We can’t shout for each other because we don't want the others to hear us.”

I scratch at my collarbone and my arm brushes the Fenrir pin. I grin and say, “An animal sound? Like a wolf howl.”

She chuckles and lets out a little howl. When she finishes, more howl's surround us. I freeze and quickly slot an arrow in place on the bow. There aren’t real wolves around are there? But unless they’re in the trees where the sound is coming from, I don’t sense anything. Marlene lets out a laugh and points up.

“Mockingjays,” she explains. “They copied my howl.”

I immediately relax. Mockingjays are the mix of mockingbirds and jabberjays. Jabberjays were another Midgar creation. They were white and gold birds able to mimic human speech perfectly and were used to send messages from one person to the other during the rebellion seventy-four years ago. The rebels used them just as much as Midgar did, and in doing so, jabberjays were the symbol of the rebellion. Rebels wore patches with the bird on it. The leader of the rebels was even nicknamed The Jabberjay. But when Midgar crushed the rebellion, there was no more need for jabberjays, so they were released into the wild to die. But instead, they mated with mockingbirds. The offspring, mockingjays, are both white and black and like jabberjays, they can mimic human sounds, just not full sentences. I only know about them because we had a few lessons about the rebellion at school. 

“Mockingjays are so useful,” Marlene whispers.

“How so?” I ask, since mockingjays do nothing for current society.

“They’re used in the mines,” she explains. “Every morning, a mockingjay in a cage is lowered into the mines through a hole to check for dangers and is left there for an hour. But it’s taught to send up a sound every five minutes, letting the miners know that it’s still alive. After an hour, if it’s still alive, the miners know that it’s safe to go down. If the mockingjay stops it’s sound or comes back dead, then that means there’s been a gas leak or lack of oxygen, and the miners won’t go down. Listen.”

She puckers her lips and whistles a quick four note tune. Almost immediately, the mockingjays send the tune back to us. Marlene does the tune a few more times, encourages me to do it too, and soon, we’re surrounded by it. After a few moments, they stop.

“Our signal,” Marlene says with pride. “All you have to do is follow that tune.”

“Now I see why you got such a high score during your evaluation,” I tell her as she blushes. 

“I did a bit of climbing and hiding,” she says modestly. “But no one remembered my score when you got that eighteen.”

“All I did was punch a mannequin and shoot a few arrows,” I say, copying her tone. I want to tell her the full story because I enjoy making her laugh and smile, but we have no time. I check my four arrows and turn back to her. She looks nervous but ready. She already has the Materia in her palm. “Give me ten minutes before you light this one. Then run to the next then the next. Don’t stop. Climb up a tree as far as you can go and don’t leave it until you see me or hear the signal.”

“I understand,” she says. “And Tifa, don’t leave them a scrap. Not even a seed, ok?”

“I’d blow up the whole cornucopia if I could,” I joke.

Without a word, she steps up to me and wraps her arms tightly around my waist. I return the gesture, breathing in her earthy scent. She even hugs like my brother. Trying not to sob into her hair, I let go and start to leave. The last image I get of her is her putting her gloves on, readying herself for the first fire.

Arrow loosely in place, I jog to the centre of the arena. Above me, I hear the flutter of tiny wings as the mockingjays follow me. I cautiously run between the trees and soon come to the embankment. I climb and ever so slowly lift my head over it. In front of me, I easily spot the food horde. It’s a large pile of everything the Careers could find. Food, weapons and bags. Around it are about fifty small mounds of earth, almost like little mole holes. I bet each mound is a trap. 

The Careers are there too. Scarlet and Piggy are sat talking and the Icicle Village boy stands a bit further away from them. I don’t see Palmer though. Maybe with so few tributes left, he may have decided to go it alone. Careers do tend to disband when there’s less than ten people still alive.

As I watch, I see all three heads turn in one direction. I immediately know that they’ve spotted our first fire. Scarlet and Piggy grab their weapons and run into the forest, the guard now alone. I could shoot him, but if I did, Scarlet and Piggy will see the arrow when they return and instantly know I was here. Also, I’m too far away for a clean shot.

I stare at the food pile, willing an idea into my head. I still have the matches in my bag, so fire may be my only option. But there is no wind, so a fire won’t spread quick enough. I chew my lip and almost break the skin when I see a streak of red. 

The Cosmo Canyon boy, Red, has run towards the horde. I watch in confusion as he lightly jumps around the mounds. He keeps glancing at the guard, but he’s still turned away, probably watching the smoke of the fire.

Red makes jumping look like an art form, lightly dropping to his toes and spinning and twirling. I don’t see why he doesn’t just walk over to the pile. He’s not there to destroy it like I am. He’s probably going to steal a few items then run back into the forest. He lets out a muffled shriek as he trips and falls into a crouch, using his arms to shield his face. When nothing happens, he straightens up, sighs in relief and continues to hop around until he’s close enough to the pile. He grabs a few things, stuffs them into his bag and leaves the same way he came, hopping, jumping and twirling. 

Why didn’t he just walk over? And why did he look so scared when he fell? Is it really booby trapped? But what traps can the Careers create that they were confident would keep their horde safe? Whatever trap it is, it must be big. Maybe some kind of explosion when stepped on. But bombs have never been a weapon issued in the Games. Bombs are for use by the gamemakers. Like the mines at the start of the Games, the ones that stop you leaving your podium too soon. 

I almost slap myself when it comes to me. I look over to where the podiums are. Yes. There's mounds of earth around them too. It’s so simple and so genius, that I also congratulate myself for figuring it out. The mines around the podiums have been dug out and carefully placed around the food and weapons pile. Palmer is from Rocket Town, a town of technology. He’d be smart enough and skilled enough to take the mines and bury them again. That’s why Red was hopping about and shrieked when he fell. He’s figured it out too. I would scream too if I was surrounded by mines and tripped over.

But now, I have to rethink. Not that any of my other ideas would work. But maybe this new information can help me. I could use the mines to my advantage. If I drop something heavy into one, it’ll explode and cause a chain reaction. There’s enough mines there to blow all the supplies miles high. But how do I set one off from here? I can’t go over there and drop something. Being too close during detonation will blow me into bloody chunks. 

“Think Tifa, think,” I mutter under my breath. 

Whatever I do to activate the mines needs to be done soon and from a distance. Scarlet and Piggy are going to figure out that the smoke is a ruse, and they’ll come running back here. I can’t leave here without getting rid of that pile. I will never get a chance like this again. 

I search the pile for anything that is heavy enough to set the mines off. There's a few things, but I know my arrow won’t dislodge any of it. I can’t even shoot an arrow at one of the mines because there won't be enough pressure to set it off. That’s when I see the perfect spot. From the side, in a net bag are a bunch of dumbapples. Bright and purple Banora Whites. Apples that came from Banora before it was wiped off the map by Midgar, then cruelly renamed dumbapples.

If I rip open the bag, the apples should tumble to the ground and set the mines off. But I only have four arrows and I don’t know how strong that net is. It’s thin so maybe not too tough. 

This is my only plan. Even if I have to waste all four arrows, I’m going to do it. I climb the rest of the embankment and barely leave the cover of the forest. From here, I can see the three plumes of smoke that Marlene has set off, the guard still turned away watching them.

I turn back to the pile. Marlene has done her job, now I need to do mine. 

I notch the first arrow.


	13. Chapter 13

I slowly let out a lungful of air and take aim. I’m close enough that I know I can hit it. But slicing that bag open with an arrow is not going to be easy. Probably the hardest target that I’ve ever had. Eyes narrowed, I fire the first shot. I groan when all it does is skim the net, creating a small tear. So close. I ready my second arrow, encouraged that my first shot was almost perfect. If I can just hit the exact same place in the net, then hopefully it will rip open. 

I hear shouting from far away and know that the Careers are on their way back and I can’t let them see me. It’s now or never. I have to get it this time. I block out every noise and aim for that tear. I steady my legs and keep my eyes on that one opening I’ve already created. I let the arrow go when I hear Scarlet shout.

The arrow slices where the tear is, opening it up even further, then almost in slow motion, one by one the apples fall. They tumble and bounce over the other food and weapons and slam to the floor. One second they’re on the ground, the next second there’s an earth shaking boom and I’m violently thrown off my feet. I slam hard into a nearby tree and the wind is knocked out of my lungs. I cough and wheeze, trying and failing to stand up. My ears are painfully ringing as smoke, ash and debris flutter around me. I lift my hands to my ears and my left hand comes back bloody, my eardrum ruptured. 

I drag my limp body backwards when Scarlet and Piggy run over to the pile. I slip a bit down the embankment and pray they don’t see me. I am hidden by a few trees but if they look over, they’ll see me. 

Scarlet is jumping up and down in a blind rage, screeching and screaming like a petulant young child. Piggy falls to his knees in front of the smouldering pile, trembling arms and head raised in the air as he screams. I keep retreating as Scarlet goes over to the Icicle Village boy and starts shouting in his face, spit flying. The poor boy is stuttering his excuses, his terror clear in his voice. I let out a gasp when Scarlet raises her arms, grabs his head and violently twists. I tumble down into the forest as the cannon fires.

Somewhere from my right I hear manic laughing. I turn to the sound and see Red stood about twenty metres away, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he laughs at full volume. I don’t even reach for another arrow as he turns to me and our eyes lock. He looks strong and healthy, has probably spent all his time away from everyone else. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I wonder if he’s going to attack me, but all he does is give me one accepting nod before he turns on his heel and runs. 

I should copy. I scramble up and disappear between the trees, creating as much space between me and the meadow as possible. It’ll take Scarlet no time to deduce that I was the cause of the explosion. I know that she’ll be scouring the area for me, more bloodthirsty than ever. With my left ear still dripping blood, I run to where the first fire would have been lit. It’s just a smouldering heap when I reach it. Scarlet and Piggy must have doused it out when they got here. 

I hear the wings of the mockingjays above me, so I let out the signal, the four tune whistle. The birds copy it and follow me to the next mound which I find is in the same state as the other. The mockingjays have stopped so I whistle again. I know I’m close enough to the third mound that Marlene would hear the signal and answer it. Fear churns at my stomach as the third mound is only partially lit. Scarlet and Piggy must have arrived mere moments after Marlene lit it.

I resist calling out her name as it’ll be too dangerous to do so. I look up every tree, hoping to see her up one. If she’s not calling back, she must be in a position that requires complete silence. But the Careers are back at the cornucopia, Red went in the other direction, and wherever Rude is, I know he won’t hurt Marlene. 

I try to think of spots she may have run to. Wherever she is, it has to be a place we both know. The only places I can think of are the stream and the place we spent last night, which isn’t too far away. But when I get there it’s empty and looks exactly as we left it. 

“Where are you, Marlene?” I whisper to myself. 

I try the whistle again but even the mockingjays don’t echo it. I decide to go back to the first mound and when she doesn’t appear, I go to the second and then to the third. I scour the grass, looking for any evidence left behind by her little feet. I even climb a tree to get a higher vantage point, but there’s nothing.

As I jump from the tree, that’s when I hear it. She’s screaming my name, her voice filled with so much terror, by heart stops momentarily. I sprint in the direction her voice comes from, her screaming is getting louder and more filled with fear. I burst through some bushes and find her, pinned to the ground with a heavy net covering her. 

“Marlene,” I shout, falling to her side as I slide my knife free from my belt. 

“Tifa,” she cries as I use my knife to cut the net. “Did you do it?”

  
“Yes,” I say in a hurry. “It's all gone. I left them with nothing.”

Once freed, she scrambles out of the net and jumps into my arms, sobbing into my neck. I shush her, rubbing my hands up and down her back, her tears seeping into my shirt. “You’re ok, you’re safe” I grin. “You did great, Marl. Brilliant.”

“Marl,” she squeaks, pushing away from me. “Only daddy calls me that.”

I chuckle. “Is that OK?”

She nods so fast her head is a blur. “You can call me anything. When I heard the cannon I thought you had died! I was so scared.”

“Scarlet killed the boy in anger,” I answer. I touch my still bleeding ear and laugh. “But I didn’t come out unscathed.”

She grins. “You’re amazing.”

I smile at her, but I turn as her eyes look over my shoulder and widen with fear. I don’t waste time in notching an arrow into my bow and aiming it at Palmer who was trying to creep up on us. I dodge the spear he throws at me and shoot the arrow straight through his neck. He crumples slowly to the ground, pudgy hands around his throat.

I breathe in big shuddering breaths. That was close. A few moments later, I’d have been skewered. I let out a laugh, turning to Marlene to make a joke to lighten the mood and my mouth opens in horror.

The spear missed me but not her. The weapon has gone through her chest. She grips the spear in her hands and slowly slides it out. Her mouth fills with blood as she looks at me and whispers my name, her hand held out to me.

“No,” I shriek, grabbing her as she falls forward. I lay her on her back, her head on my knees as my hands shake above her. I don't know what to do. I should cover the wound right? My brother is the medic not me. What do I do? What do I do?! “Stay with me Marlene. It’s going to be ok. You’ll be alright.”

“Tifa,” she whimpers. “Hurts.”

“I know,” I say, my tears falling onto her cheeks. “I know. You’re going to make it. I’ll find a way. I always do, right?. Then you’ll have a nice sleep and when you wake up I’ll have that rabbit cooked ready for you to eat. You can have as much as you want. All of it in fact.”

“Yummy,” she croaks, more blood running down from the corner of her mouth. I use my sleeve to wipe it away. “Tifa, you have to win.”

“Not without you.”

“You know I’m not dumb.”

She’s right. There is no point in telling her she’s going to be ok. It’ll take a miracle to seal that wound up and replenish the lost blood. Marlene is clever. She knows this is the end for her. She doesn’t need me telling lies, she needs me to comfort her in her final moments. “I’ll win,” I sob as I brush my fingers through her matted hair. “I’ll win.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A cannon goes off and I quickly search Marlene's face. She's blinking and breathing still so it must have been for Palmer. She weakly lifts her hands and takes off one of the gloves. They’re leather with silver studs on the knuckles, perfect for fist fighting. “Take them,” she coughs. “You’ll find more use for them than me. And take the Materia too, since you can’t make fires.”

I nod as her arms fall to the ground. Her eyes flutter and a small smile works its way onto her face. “Sing for me.”

I use my arm to wipe my wet eyes. “Sing?”

“Daddy always sings me to sleep,” she says softly.

I know a few songs, but most of them are jolly songs or ones that are patriotic to Nibelheim. But I do know one lullaby. One I would always sing to Denzel whenever he got nightmares when he was little. A song my mother would use to get me to sleep. I nod and start in a low voice. It’s a song about being safe in a parents arms when the monsters get scary. How a mother will kiss your cheek and a father will hold you tight in his arms. As I sing, Marlene’s eyes don’t leave mine, her mouth moving as she mimes the words. My words are sung around sobs and croaks, the last few words unrecognisable, but I continue for her. When I reach the last line about how the monsters are turned away, I know my ears are the only ones that hear it. 

Her sightless eyes are still open so with trembling fingers, I gently slide them shut. The cannon signaling her death goes. Around me, mockingjays echo verses of my song, almost like they are joining in singing Marlene to slumber.

I need to move before the hovercraft comes and takes Marlene and Palmer’s bodies. I gently lower her head onto the floor and take a few steps back, just looking at her. She looks so peaceful and young. I go back and kneel next to her. I take one glove and slide the other off her other hand, putting them on my own. I fold her hands over her chest and grab a bunch of yellow flowers near me and put them in her hands, over her wound. Then I search her pockets for the Materia. In a trance, I scavenge the area for more flowers and gather huge bunches of white ones that I use to halo her head. I weave the stems in her hair, plaiting it and ending them with blue flowers. Around her body I place more yellow flowers, until she’s completely surrounded by them. I kiss her forehead and back away, hearing the hovercraft above me waiting for me to leave.

I search around the trees and spot what I’m looking for. A tiny camera is on me. I stare right into the lense, and with my cheeks crusted with dry tears, I lift the middle three fingers of my right hand, kiss them and lift them towards the camera. A salute for Marlene. Respect for Corel. I hope all of Corel is watching. I glance one last time at Marlene and bite my trembling lip. “Goodnight,” I whisper.

I go over to Palmer and rip the arrow out of his throat. I stare down into his face, wishing I could hate him, but I can’t. He too is a victim of the Games. Games that Midgar has forced us to play. I don’t give him any send off as I walk away. I hear the hovercraft descend and swifty turn to watch a long claw like machine grab the bodies and carry Marlene and Palmer into the air, flowers from Marlene's body fluttering to the grass like broken butterflies. Five of us left alive now. Two Junon, two Nibelheim and one Cosmo Canyon.

I don’t know where I’m going as I stumble aimlessly through the trees. My mind is still on Marlene. Her face slack, her tiny body covered in flowers and the giant wound I hid under her own hands. The thought turns my stomach and I grip onto a tree as I vomit my breakfast up. I wash my mouth out with some water and continue on. I make it a few more steps before I have to vomit again.

As the daylight turns dark, I climb up a tree for the night, taking off my belt and strapping myself in. As I settle, a small silver parachute lands directly on my lap. I rip open the package and tears run down my cheeks again. Inside are a few lumps of black coal. I know what this is. This is a thank you for caring for Marlene. For singing her to her death and covering her in flowers. I place the coal into my bag and search for another camera. It’s easy to find between the branches. I wipe away my tears and lift my chin.

“Thank you, to the people of Corel,” I say directly to it. I want them to know how grateful I am for their gift. Despite coal being their thing, they don’t get to keep any of it unless they pay highly for it. The town must have scraped enough together for these few lumps for me. Or maybe it was intended for Marlene and last second, it was given to me. Either way, I’m thankful. 

I settle down for sleep and I almost don’t want to watch as the anthem plays, but I do. Palmer, Icicle Village boy and Marlene. Her image stays in the sky for a little longer before it goes. Just seeing her face causes me to snap. I want to scream as the anthem plays again. I want to rip out my hair and set the whole area alight. I want to bang my fists so hard against the arena walls and break through. I imagine myself going to the control room and firing arrows into the throats of everyone there. Then I envision my hands wrapped around President Shinra’s throat, watching his eyes bulge and his lips turn blue.

I wake up to birds singing and the ground metres below me. I’m dangling feet above the floor, my belt around my waist being the only thing saving me from either great harm or a humiliating death. I must have tossed and turned in my sleep. I scramble back onto the branch and pack all my things away. It’s a peaceful day but I stay as far away from the centre of the arena as I can. I don’t want to be anywhere near Scarlet, but if I did come across her, I can’t imagine what I would do. I wouldn’t even use my weapons to tear her apart, just my fingers will do. I manage to shoot a pheasant and as I sit and pluck its feathers, Tseng's voice booms around the trees. I try to block him out but he’s too loud.

“Tributes,” he says in an almost upbeat tone. “There has been a rule change.”

I stop plucking and lift my good ear up. A rule change? Is that allowed? The only rules we have in the Games is not to step off our starting podiums too early and don’t eat each other. What horrible and messed up things have they planned for us now? Isn’t children killing one another enough excitement for the people of Midgar? I grit my teeth as Tseng continues.

“If two tributes from the same town are the last two alive, both tributes will be declared the Victor. I repeat. If both of you from the same town are the last ones standing, you both win. As always, good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Slowly the news sinks in. I can get out of here. All I need to do is find Rude and we both get to live and go home. Before I can stop myself I jump up and scream his name.


	14. Chapter 14

I slap my hands over my mouth the moment Rude’s name passes my lips. Stupid. So incredibly fucking idiotic. Anyone within a quarter mile radius would have heard that. Quickly I stuff the half plucked pheasant into my bag after removing the rotten rabbit carcass and take off, just in case someone did hear.

Rude. Where is he? The last time I saw him was after the Tracker Jacker incident, and I’m still not one hundred percent sure if it was really him or just my mind playing tricks on me. What I do know is that he’s alive out there somewhere, and I need to find him. This is the best news I’ve heard in ages.

I don’t care that he teamed up with Scarlets group. I don’t care if he helped me or not. I care about us both getting out of this arena alive. 

There are only five of us left. Scarlet and Piggy are already together so they have no worries with finding one another and poor Red. The girl from Cosmo Canyon is already dead, so he’s all on his own. But he’s been alone since the beginning of these Games so I think he’ll be fine.

This arena is huge but I have hope that I’ll find Rude before my competitors find me. If I have to take Red down I will, and I have no problems shooting both Scarlet and Piggy in the eye with my arrows. 

I stop by the side of the stream and fill up my water bottle. As I put in one of the tablets as a precautionary measure, the rushing water gets me thinking. Rude has been on his own for a few days now. A human can live weeks without food but only days without water. Wherever he is, he must be near a water source. Putting aside the pond I found during my extreme dehydration, the only water sources I know are this stream and the lake back at the cornucopia. Scarlet and Piggy are at the lake so my guess is that Rude is somewhere near this stream. Maybe as far away from the starting meadow as he could get. 

Bow in one hand and arrow in the other, I walk away from the direction of the meadow, keeping the stream by my side. As I get further and further away, I put away my weapons and mindlessly start plucking the pheasant again. I’m quite far away so I doubt I’ll come across any of my other tributes besides Rude. 

The terrain begins to slowly change. The trees begin to thin out and the grass turns to rocks and pebbles. A small mountain range is ahead of me so I keep my water bottle close, readying myself for a hike. Nibelheim is a mountain base town, I’m used to sharp inclines and heights. I’m always up in the mountains with Reno hunting so hiking is like second nature to me. Rude too is also from Nibelheim so he shouldn’t have any trouble either. If I was Rude, I’d take refuge here too.

The sun is high above, causing sweat to trickle all over my body. I remove my jacket and ram it into my bag. Pushing my damp hair to one side, I go back over to the stream and use the water to cool my hot and red skin. I splash my face and rub water up and down my sunkissed arms. I remove my boots and socks and dip my feet into the stream. I sigh and gasp as my feet become submerged. My toes are bright red and the balls of my feet are covered in the remains of burst blisters. 

I clean my dirty and blood crusted socks and put them back on. But as I tie up my boots, something to the side catches my eye. Small droplets of blood trail across the rocks and boulders like a line. I get up and rearm myself as I follow the blood. I don’t have to follow it for too long as I soon find the injured culprit.

I quickly jump from boulder to boulder like a ninja as I run to him. Rude is slumped unconscious near the end of the stream, his legs and waist submerged under the water. As I get to him, I fall to my knees by his side and check his pulse as I say his name over and over again. 

His heartbeat is racing but his breathing is slow. I grab him under his arms and with difficulty, drag his body out of the water. As soon as he’s out, he lets out a groan and his eyes flutter open. His gaze is glassy.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Shush, it’s ok.”

He struggles to get into a sitting position but fails. I catch him by his shoulders and prop his head on my knees. As he’s taking in deep shuddering breaths, I check him for injuries. The main thing I notice is his leg. There’s a large bloody gash that cuts directly across his thigh, deep enough to see bone. This wound is what caused the line of blood. Is what has probably made Rude so weak and disoriented. Other than a bit of sunburn and others cuts and bruises, he seems fine. 

“Tifa?” he mumbles as I tear strips from my shirt and use it as bandages. He takes my wrist in his hand as I go to pour water over the wound. I glance at him and he gives me a small smile. “Wow. You’re real?”

“Yeah, I’m real,” I tell him as I pour the water. He groans but thankfully doesn’t squirm. I'm not good at treating people and my bandage abilities are subpar, but my efforts are going to have to do. “Did you hear the announcement?”

“About teaming up and two winners?” he asks. I nod. “Yeah. I came out to see if I could find you but I, uh, as you can see.”

“You weren’t going to get very far,” I chuckle. I place the water bottle under his lips and indicate for him to drink. More goes down his chin than in his mouth, but he gasps in relief when he pulls back. “Come out of where?”

“The cave,” he supplies. “I ran as far as I could from Scarlet and ended up here. Been hiding here since.”

So he _was_ helping me by urging me to run and not a hallucination. I help him up as he struggles to his feet and I hold his body up as he guides us both to his cave. “It’s not much,” he mumbles as we walk slowly. “But it keeps away the weather and is close to the stream. And there are edible berries around but I’m a bit low on them.” 

“I have stuff we can eat,” I tell him as we near the base of the mountains. From here, I see a small opening that has a few vines and rocks in front of it, items Rude has been using to hide the opening. I brush the vines aside as we enter. 

The cave is long and narrow and once we reach the end, Rude gently pushes away from my hold and falls onto a thin sleeping bag that is laid out on the hard ground. Around the area are other items Rude has collected. There is an empty packet of salted beef jerky, a little pile of blue coloured berries and a half full bottle of murky looking water. I go over to it and pour it out. I’ll refill it later and add one of my remaining tablets. I look at Rude and find he’s watching my every movement. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he grins when he notices that I’m staring at him back. 

I snort. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“It works,” he mumbles. His hand trails down to his thigh and he hisses in pain as he prods at the bandaged wound, spots of blood already seeping through. “Shit. Scarlet sure knows how to injure people.”

  
“You saved me,” I can’t help but say. “I tried to kill you with that nest yet you still put yourself between me and her. Why?”

“You know why,” he says, maintaining eye contact. “I said it during my interview.”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes and I have to bite my lip to stop myself saying something I know I’ll regret. I blame Genesis for getting that stupid lovers act into Rude’s head. And I’m annoyed that Rude is still going through with it. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him, but I don’t as I take a seat and spread out my meagre items. Just my jacket, sleeping bag, pheasant, an empty tin of burn cream, my water bottle, a few lumps of coal, the sunglasses which I’ve found no use for yet and Marlene’s Materia. Rude gasps as he grabs the green marble in his hand. “How did you get this?”

A lump forms in my throat as I remember digging through Marlene's pocket after she was killed. I try to shake the image from my head as I answer. “It was gifted to Marlene,” I say in a soft voice. His face morphs into understanding. “She wanted me to take it.”

  
“I’m sorry,” he says as he puts the Materia back. He doesn’t ask any follow up questions and I’m grateful. He rubs sweat from his face and sighs. “I’m really sorry that I won’t be much help to you. This wound won’t let me go more than a few steps before I collapse. I tried to clean it but it’s too deep and it’s infected.”

“We’ll do something about it,” I tell him with false hope. “Genesis can sweet talk someone into sending you something.”

He grimaces and his expression turns sour. “Genesis has sent me jack shit,” he growls. “I understand why he didn’t when I was with the Careers but I’ve received nothing since I left them and that was over four days ago. Seems to have forgotten that I exist.” He nods at the tin and the coal. “Cloud cares about you though. It must be nice having a mentor that cares whether you live or die.”

I blush and feel anger at Genesis too. Rude needs something for his leg in the same way I needed the burn cream for mine. So why hasn’t Genesis done something about it? Sure later in the Games, items become more rare and expensive, but Genesis has enough charm to get a few people to pool together and get Rude something that can help. Or has Genesis given up on Rude? Maybe after receiving the wound, Genesis counted Rude out. Why waste time and money on someone who’ll just end up dead soon anyway. Or did he really lose all of his sponsorship when he teamed with the Careers?

I can’t give Rude an answer or explanation, so I divert our conversation in a different direction. “Hungry?”

He shrugs and uses the cave wall to keep himself propped up. “I caught a fish last night and ate that,” he mumbles. “But I threw it straight up. My body has given up on me too.”

“Well I haven’t given up on you,” I tell him as I pile the coal up, remembering how Marlene did this and whether I can light these inside a cave or not. “I don’t intend to win on my own.”

He manages a weak smile. “Thank you.”

*

I have to use the coal outside to light it. Using the Materia is difficult and it’s nightfall when I manage to get a small bit of fire from it. After a few tries, the coal burns white and I use it to cook the pheasant. Together Rude and I found out that the sunglasses are some kind of night vision aid. With them I can see everything in the dark. The only small drawback is that everything is coloured bright green. I don’t suit them as well as Rude does, but I don’t care what I look like wearing them now that I’ve found their use.

Speaking of Rude, he’s passed out in the cave. What am I going to do with him? He needs medicine and something to bind the sides of the flesh together. Denzel is the one with medical skills, not me. I was always the one who would hide in my room when someone seriously injured found their way to our home. Due to Denzel asking for either a little bit of Gil or nothing at all, we always found someone at our doorstep asking for aid. He’s just a kid with little knowledge of medicine, but he always tried his best. I remember using a lot of Gil I got from hunting to get him a book about the subject. I smile when I recall how big his eyes got when he took the book in his hands. I wish that I had flicked through it myself, then maybe I would have some idea on how to help my own patient. 

As the pheasant cooks, I fill up Rudes bottle with clean water. No wonder he was sick, without the purification pills, the water can carry all kinds of dangerous bacteria. I swirl the pill until it dissolves and put it aside. When the pheasant is done, I find some large leaves and divide the meat into piles because I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go out hunting again since I don’t feel comfortable leaving Rude on his own in his condition. 

Reentering the cave, I wake Rude up. He grunts when he opens his eyes but manages a smile. Without a word I take one of his hands and place a hunk of breast meat into his palm. He warily brings it to his mouth and takes a small bite.

“I won’t be offended if you throw up,” I joke as I nibble at my own food. “Or at least not too offended.”

“First cooked thing I’ve had in days,” he says, having trouble keeping his eyes open. I shift closer to him and drag my own sleeping bag over our bodies. My shivers slowly subside as we share body heat. “It’s good.”

I reach out and place the back of my hand to his forehead. He’s burning up with fever. I swipe my sweat slick hand on my trousers and douse another strip of fabric in water and place it over his forehead. He sighs and closes his eyes. 

“We really need something to help get that fever down and sew that wound up,” I tell him, but make sure my voice is loud enough for any microphone in the area to pick up. I did search the area for cameras but didn’t see anything. Unless they’re expertly hidden, my guess is that the gamemakers didn’t think anyone would take refuge this far out. But hopefully I’m heard. Genesis will figure out that comment was more for him than it was for Rude.

“You should just leave me,” Rude mutters as he chews. “I’m a hindrance. You’ll do better without me.”

“Shut up,” I grumble. “Finish your food and go back to sleep. I’ll take watch tonight.”

“You’re too nice,” he says as he finishes eating. “That’s why all the boys back home like you.”

I grimace. “And not my breasts?” I snort. Yeah they’re big. And yes, they do gain a lot of attention from the opposite sex. I have to constantly remind boys at school where my eyes are located. And the girls nicknamed me Titfa out of cruelty and jealousy. 

With whatever strength he has, Rude shakes his head. “I don’t notice them when I look at you. I see someone with a beautiful soul and personality to match. You help at school when needed and help keep the poor population fed. You instruct kids on how to use their hands and feet during Zangans classes. And you use your house for people who are too poor to go to a proper doctor.”

“Denzel does that,” I say. I know my face is red due to all of his compliments. “I don’t help the people who come.”

“But you don’t turn them away,” Rude replies. “That’s why I like you.”

  
I struggle to think up something to say back to him. If our conversation is being picked up, then I know the audience is waiting for my reply. I know I’ll be perceived as a total bitch if I change the subject or brush him off. Whatever I say must be seen as positive since we’re a team now. Damn this stupid lovers thing. This would be so much easier if Rude would drop the act and stop referencing it. I can’t lie and say I like him back, but if I tell the truth that I’m in no way attracted to him, then that’ll anger anyone invested in the act, and Scarlet and Piggy will find themselves with new sponsors. _My_ sponsors. 

But maybe I can use it as an advantage. Maybe I _should_ do my part in the act. If I do, then maybe people will be sympathetic to the two young teenagers in love, and band together to get Rude what he needs. If we win, we can just drop the act when we get back to Nibelheim. People will lose interest in us as soon as next year's Games begin. 

Just in case there are cameras, I snuggle closer to him and lay my head on his shoulder. “Sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”  
“I know you will,” he sighs. “Goodnight.”

As he quickly succumbs to sleep, I kiss his temple and hope a camera is watching.

  
  


*

“Tributes, you are invited to a feast.”

The sound of Tseng's voice echoes around the arena, dulled by the cave walls. Rude and I listen closely but that's all. A feast! Not an event that it sounds like. Tributes won’t meet up and sit at a table and pass gravy around to one another and laugh and joke. No. This is not a chance for the remaining tributes to call a truce. This is announced at every Games when there has been no action lately and all tributes are scattered around the arena. It’s a ploy to get tributes in one place and hope that there’s a death or at least a mutilation. 

But it has one advantage. At the feast are objects that tributes need. I don’t know what Scarlet, Piggy and Red need but Rude needs medicine and something to close that wound. If I go there, I’m sure I’ll find it. 

But the feast table is always at the cornucopia. An area guarded by Scarlet and Piggy. If I go there, I know I’ll be targeted by them. But if I don’t. Well . . . bye bye Rude.

I pick up my bow and arrows. “If I leave now, I’ll have enough time to scope out the area.”

“You’re not going,” Rude snarls as he grips my wrist. “If you do, I’ll follow you.”

  
“You barely have enough strength to leave the cave,” I point out. 

“I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for me,” he insists. “I’m not worth it. I-”

I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I find myself leaning forward and stopping his protests with my mouth. This isn't how I imagined my first kiss. There’s no fireworks, just desperation. I press my lips to his and I feel him lift his arm and place his hand at the back of my head. When I pull back, he looks dazed. 

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper, ignoring the pounding of my heart. “I’ll be back before the sun sets.”

“No,” he groans, still not letting go of my wrist. The sudden kiss hasn’t deterred him. “You’re too important to me. I won’t let you leave.”

“I’m not losing you,” I snarl. “You need whatever is there. I’ll risk it.”

“Then help me up,” he says, moving to do just that. “If you go, I go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I tell him, pushing him back down. “You’ll hold me back.” And to keep up with the concerned lover act, I add on. “And you’ll injure your leg even further.”

He shakes his head but he doesn’t try to get back up again. I spend the next hour pleading with him, even trade kisses, but he refuses to let me go. “I’m not letting you go when I finally have you, Tifa.”

Eventually I relent. “Fine. At least let me look at your leg.”

It looks even worse. The bandage tears off bits of dead flesh and a putrid smell fills the air. The flesh inside the wound is yellow and green with infection. If Rude doesn’t get treatment soon, he won’t last much longer. I reach for my water bottle and empty half of it onto the wound. Rude lets out a screech, muffled due to his hands over his mouth. 

“I’ll clean these bandages,” I tell him. 

He looks wary as I get up. “You’re not going to that feast.” 

“Wasn’t planning to, have a little trust in me. Look, I’ll leave all my stuff here,” I tell him, keeping the bite out of my voice. “I’m just going to the stream to clean up your bandages. I’ll end up naked if I tear off any more strips from my shirt.”

“Promise me you’ll come back,” he demands.

I sigh. “Promise. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, you have my permission to follow me. Deal?”

I make a show of it as I grab a purification tablet with the intent of refilling my bottle and leave the cave. It’s not until I’m outside in the sun that I realise how hot it is down there. There’s a slight breeze that runs across my sweaty skin and through my drenched hair. Bandages in hand, I kneel beside the stream and try my best to clean them of blood, pus and whatever else they’re coated with. I do it quickly, not giving Rude an excuse to leave the cave. As I try to come up with a plan on how to treat him, a beeping catches my attention. 

A small silver parachute lands a few feet away from me. I waste no time in grabbing it. I tear the package open eagerly, hoping to find some kind of medicine for Rude inside, but all I find is disappointment and a small yellow pill. 

This won’t be enough to cure Rude. I don’t even think this is medicine. As I take the pill in hand, I recognise it for what it is. This pill has some kind of sleeping draught in it. One pill can knock a full grown human out for a few hours. I recognise it because just after my mother's death, my father would trade objects for enough Gil to be able to buy these. For the first year after her death, my dad was barely awake. Despite having two small children to look after, he couldn’t function after the death of his wife. He only stopped after I threw them all away and told the people he got them from to stop. 

There wasn’t a note that came with the pill, so I presume I have to guess why I’ve been given this. But as I clutch the bandages in my hand, the answer comes to me. They’re not for me, but for Rude. 

A few hours is all I need to get to the feast and return with Rude’s medicine. He won’t take the pill willingly, so I’ll have to force him. I remember that the pill is very dissolvable, so I drop it into my water bottle and wait a few moments until it’s gone. Now all I have to do is convince Rude to drink up.

An almost manic smile weaves across my face as I reenter the cave. 


	15. Chapter 15

Heat engulfs me the further down I go and I’m covered in sweat when I get back to Rude. He’s pale and shivering but he beams when he sees me, and doesn’t complain when I redress his leg. 

“You actually returned,” he chuckles weakly. “I had half a mind to come up with you to make sure you didn’t run off.”

“I keep my promises,” I say, trying as hard as possible to act natural. To act like I’m not about to drug him and go to the feast. But how to get him to drink the water. He’s weak enough that I could just force the water down his throat, but I risk injuring him further. And he’ll be suspicious if I just tell him to drink. I need to be sneaky.

I wipe at my slick brow and an idea comes to mind. Time to flex my acting talent. “It’s hot down here. Damn, forgot to refill by bottle. We’ll finish this off then I’ll go and do it.”

Rude watches as I unscrew the cap of my bottle and take a drink. I make sure he doesn’t see that my lips are tightly sealed, making sure not to let a single drop enter my mouth. I pretend to chug, wipe my mouth and hand it over to him. He doesn’t say a word as he finishes the bottle. He does arch a brow when he notices that I’m watching him very closely.

“What?” he asks, checking around himself.

Now that he’s drunk the whole thing, I have no problems telling him the truth. “I’ll be back before you wake up. I promise. I’m not going to let you die.”

“Huh?” he splutters. He glances at the water bottle in horror. “What did you do? Tifa! What was in this?”

“Shush,” I coo as I notice his body begin to slump and his eyes start to droop. “Lay down. Let's get you comfy.”

“Tifa,” he growls, fighting both me and the drug. “Don’t you dare leave. Don’t even think about going there.”

  
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper. I sound like I usually do when I’m calming down Denzel after a really bad nightmare. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m worrying,” he snaps as he attempts to make himself throw the water back up by sticking two fingers down his throat. I quickly yank his hand out of his mouth. He glares as I ease him into a sleeping position. “Please, I’m begging. Don’t go to the feast. Please. If you have any feelings for me, then don’t go.”

I wince at the last bit. Even  _ now _ he’s acting. All I do is lean forward and kiss him one last time and when I pull back, his eyes are shut and he’s totally asleep. I leave the sleeping bag off him since it is still so hot. Before I leave, I fill up more water in the bottle and leave it near his head, along with the rest of the food. Just in case I don’t come back, I’ll die knowing at least he won’t starve to death or die from dehydration.

I grab my bow and last two arrows and with one last lingering glance at Rude, I leave the cave. With a hunter's skill, I tread carefully and silently over the rocks and back into the forest. I wiggle my finger in my damaged ear and hope it does something, but all sounds are muffled, so I have only one ear to listen for danger. It takes a few hours but I reach the meadow again, using the trees as cover.

Scarlet and Piggy are not in sight, so they’ve taken cover too, hoping to jump out when either Red or I appear. Or maybe they had to leave the area when the feast table was set up.

In front of the mouth of the cornucopia on a table sits three bags. One large one with a J on it for Junon, a medium bag with a C for Cosmo Canyon and a small square box with a N. That one's mine. I’m itching to run for it but I have to wait. That table that the bags are on is loaded with explosives. If a bag is taken before the claxton, the table will explode and not only kill whoever took the bag, but will destroy all the others. 

I wonder what the others need. I’m tempted to find out by being the first one there and grab all three. But if I did, then they’ll all hunt me down. It’s not against the rules to take another tributes bag, but it does make you an instant target. Whatever is in these bags is valuable. A matter of life or death. 

I don’t wait to run when the claxton goes. I stop in shock as Red, who was hidden inside the cornucopia, runs out and grabs two bags. Luckily, mine is still there. I try not to beat myself up for not thinking of doing the same thing. It’s smart. But taking the bags isn't. I don’t hesitate as I reach the table and grab the bag. But as I turn, a bolt of pain slices the side of my head and I tumble to the floor. I roll to my feet and I’m instantly grabbed by a pair of thick meaty hands.

I screech as I push Piggy down. With blood running into my eyes, I watch as Scarlet lifts another knife into the air, ready to throw it at me. But I’m quicker as I let loose an arrow and it goes right through her calf. She moans as she falls to the floor. 

Then Piggy is back on me. He uses his weight to tackle me to the floor, his hands around my throat. I try to pry his hands from me, but all I can see is his eyes, narrowed in concentration.

“Where’s lover boy?” he laughs, easily shrugging off my weak punches. “I’m surprised he’s even still alive.”

I grab my last arrow and harshly jab the point into the back of his hand. He yells and pulls back. “Rude,” I shout, pretending that he’s here in a hope that it’ll deter Piggy. “Rude now.”

“Shut up, bitch,” he snaps. “Or I’ll skewer you like Palmer did with that little girl. What was her name again? Marlene?”

I snarl like a feral dog. How dare he bring up Marlene! He has no right bringing up her name. He doesn’t deserve to say it. I’m so filled with rage I bring up my legs and slam my knees into his crotch. He howls animalistically as he releases me. I’m up immediately but so is Scarlet. She rips the arrow out of her leg and stumbles toward me. I notch my last arrow but she’s too close for me to fire. Her fist slams against my cheek and I instinctively step back. Too in shock, I don’t respond when she twists my hair between her fingers and lowers my head down, her knee coming up and hitting my straight in the jaw, forcing my teeth to slam together, my tongue between them. Blood fills my mouth as I wrench myself from her hold. 

Balling my hand into a fist, I lift myself up and punch her in her own jaw, forcing her head up. My upper cut sends her flying. She trips over Piggy who has just found his feet and they both slam into the side of the cornucopia. 

Not giving them a chance to recover, I turn and run back into the forest, Scarlets screeches following me. I spit blood and a tooth onto the floor as I go, trying not to let Scarlet's punch disorientate me. I don’t have time to wipe away the blood falling into my eyes. I have to keep going because they’ll be right on my tail. I zig zag as I go so that if they are following, I’m not taking them straight to Rude. 

But I hear no one coming up behind me. Scarlet won’t be able to run too far due to the injury I gave her and Piggy looks like someone who won’t be able to run a few metres before needing a break. But I don’t stop until my feet touch down onto rock and boulders. 

I fly down the cave and trip as I get to the bottom. I slam into the side of the cave and tear open the bag I risked my life for. Inside is a syringe, a needle and metal thread. I grab the syringe and jab it into Rudes arm, releasing the solution into his body. I don’t have time to think about stitching his leg together because I pass out, the syringe still sticking out of Rude’s arm.

*

It’s dark when I awaken. I wince as I feel pressure against my head. My temple screams in pain, the area where Scarlet’s knife hit. My body feels hot and sticky and my throat is dry and scratchy. I struggle to open my eyes, but when I do, I see a concerned face above me. 

“Idiot,” the face says. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

  
“I was dead?” I dumbly mutter. Of course I’m not dead. A corpse can’t feel pain. 

“Be thankful I didn’t kill you when I woke up.”

  
I carefully sit up with the help of Rudes hands. I touch my head wound and wince when I do, a wet bit of cloth over it. I turn to Rude who looks as good as new, despite the leg wound. The stitches of his leg are wonky since he had to do it himself, but they keep the flesh bound together. His face is a mixture of anger and worry.

“You look good,” I tell him, hoping a compliment will dampen the anger. “That medicine works quick.”

“I begged you not to go,” he says coldly. “But you still did. How did you even get the pill to drug me?”

“I was sent it,” I reply. “Genesis or Cloud wanted me to go to the feast. They were smart enough to know that you needed what it offered. I told you I’d be safe and I am.”

“Someone almost sliced your head open,” he growls, pointing to my wound. “And your neck is covered in bruises.”

“I’m alive aren’t I?” I scowl. “And your leg is healed. Geez, if I knew getting you that medicine was going to make you like this, I wouldn’t have bothered. I should have let you die.”

I regret my words instantly when Rude’s face turns sour. The holes in the cave that give us light highlight his features. He’s not angry, he’s disappointed. Like a child, I feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “But I had no choice. I couldn’t let you die. I had to do whatever I could to save you.”

“Why?” he says in a soft whisper.

I’m asking that myself. It’s not just because we both can win if we’re the last ones standing. I get no bonuses having Rude as a fellow Victor. And in his weakened state, he’ll be no use against the Careers and Red. And it’s not because I have romantic feelings for him either. That part is just an act that we’re both doing. My conclusion is because I can’t let go of the boy who threw me that bread. No matter what I do, I can never stop repaying him for that. That damn burnt bread. I wish I was in this cave with someone else. Someone I wouldn't feel guilty about leaving to die. Someone I owe no debt to. My words are half truth and half act.

“Because I care about you a lot. I wouldn’t be able to take it if you died.”

I don’t complain when his lips find mine. Instead, my need for human contact makes me lean into the kiss. I don’t even imagine that he’s someone else. We break apart and I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers as he soothingly runs his fingers through my hair and across my scalp. “I’m good to keep watch, thanks to you.” 

I mumble in agreement as I slide into the sleeping bag next to him and use his body for heat as I snuggle closer to him. One of his arms wraps around my shoulders as I close my eyes.

*

I wake up the next morning feeling refreshed and super hungry. Rude is the same as we dig like animals through the rest of the pheasant meat. Rude no longer needs help moving as his strength comes back to him. When I feel his forehead, it’s still sweaty but not as hot as before. He’s still a little ill, but that’ll go once the medicine has a chance to do its job. I’m in a good mood until I hear the cannon.

My mouth goes dry. Who was it? My arrow couldn’t have wounded Scarlet enough to kill her and Piggy only got a knee to the crotch. And they wouldn’t have killed each other. Have they tracked Red down for stealing their bag and killed him? Sorrow fills me when I come to that conclusion. 

“Down to four of us,” Rude mumbles. “Let’s hope it was Scarlet.”

I want to hope but I can’t. I did want Red to win if Rude or I didn’t. But before I start plans on how to kill the Careers, I need Red’s death confirmed. “I’ll go up when the anthem sounds tonight,” I say softly. “See whose picture they show.”   
He hugs me and I fall into the embrace. I really hope the cameras are watching this because it’ll definitely add to the act. But I find myself enjoying it. Was I really this eager for human touch? Sure I talked to Marlene and held her as she died, but I saw myself as a big sister. Rude however is a boy of the opposite sex. A boy who claimed that he has liked me for years. Even knowing it’s an act, it sends chills through my body.

We stay in this embrace until I can’t stand it any longer. I leave the cave, telling Rude I’ll get us some more food, but all I do is sit by the stream and think without Rude’s presence. 

I bet Genesis is grinning up a storm now that Rude and I are making his plan come to fruition. His teengers in love is happening right in front of the world's eyes. Rude is doing his part perfectly, no one can doubt that he loves me. I sometimes find myself falling for it myself. I never knew he was that good of an actor. But how do I look? I’m sure my actions and words are not as perfect. I’m sure the people of Midgar have already figured out that I’m lying. I don’t act like a teenage girl who is around her crush. I must seem cold and standoffish. But I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve already healed his wounds and risked my life to get him medicine. I was even the one to initiate the first kiss.

But I needn't worry about my acting when a parachute falls to my side and inside are a bunch of peanut cookies, some with red icing in the shape of love hearts and some with a simple RxT design. 

In frustration, I’m tempted to throw them into the stream, but food is food. Without hunting a single thing, I go back inside and present Rude with the cookies. He grimaces when he sees the design.

“I never knew people would be so invested in us,” he says as he snaps one in half and eats. “We’re the new Zack and Aerith.”

“I don’t remember them getting sent cookies,” I say. 

“No,” Rude says, a small blush forming. “They were sent chocolate covered strawberries and oysters.”

“Why-” I stop myself from asking. I know why. Luckily, Zack and Aerith never turned the Games x-rated for  _ those _ reasons. 

We nibble our cookies and just talk. Rude admits that he only joined the Careers in the hopes of leading them away from me, or protecting me if they found me. He also tells me how he stopped Scarlet getting to me after the Tracker Jacker incident. Scarlet knew the second she saw us both alive and together that Rude had been playing her. So she had wrestled his sword from his hands and attacked him. She had only managed to gash open his leg before she began hallucinating, shouting something about being surrounded by bubbles with large mouths. Injured, Rude ran. He had no idea where he was going but he soon came across this cave and took refuge in it. Then he slowly got more ill and more weak. He only left the cave when the team up announcement was made, but as he was using the stream to clean himself up, he blacked out. That’s when I found him. 

I tell him about Marlene. About how she found me and treated my stings. And how together we formed a plan to get rid of the Career’s food and supplies. I can’t continue when I get to how Palmer had killed her. Rude doesn’t press me to continue. 

I don’t realise how long we've been sat talking when the anthem plays. I scramble up and run to the entrance. I wait and watch the starry sky, eager to know who will be shown. I’m unsurprised when I see Red’s face. I walk back slowly, the anthem playing behind me. I don’t realise I have tears running down my cheeks until Rude wipes them away. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I know you wanted him to win if it wasn’t us.”   
“If he hadn't taken their bag,” I sob into his chest. “He was so smart so why did he take it?”

“Maybe he thought that he could hide from them,” Rude mumbles. “And that taking their bag would stop them from winning. They did need food after you blew it all up. Let’s hope he ate it all before they got to him.”

“And he was one against four,” I continue, trying to convince myself that no matter what, Red’s death was inevitable. “He lost the moment they announced teams.”

“We’ll win it for him,” Rude says into my hair. “For him and Marlene.”

And Denzel, my mind supplies, but I’m done talking. I untangle myself from his arms and wipe my face free of moisture. “I’ll take the next watch. You must be exhausted.”

He nods and guides me over to the sleeping bag. We snuggle in and as I use the cave wall to prop myself up in a sitting position, Rude lays down and uses my lap as a pillow. I don’t try to move him as I run my hand slowly up and down his scalp, my fingers sliding over his close cropped hair. He watches me intently until sleep overcomes him.

Two against two. Rude and I versus Scarlet and Piggy. I have no worries about Piggy, even if he was able to overpower me and get his hands around my neck. At a distance, I could easily use my last arrow and slice through his throat. Scarlet on the other hand is a serious threat. She’s the only one I’ve been afraid to face in the arena. She’s psychotic and will do anything to win. But where she’s fighting for glory, I’m fighting for my family. My father and brother need me back in Nibelheim, and Reno, who I class as my older brother, will want his hunting buddy back by his side. Being back home with my friends and family is enough motivation I need to be able to fight and kill Scarlet, no matter what. Even if it almost kills me, I’ll make sure I’m the Victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve officially begun writing the sequel which covers Catching Fire. Not sure what to name it so at the moment it’s just Fantasy Games 2. Maybe Fantasy Fire? Catching Fantasy? I dunno. If anyone comes up with better (which will be easy) I’d love to hear it :)


	16. Chapter 16

As Rude sleeps, I’m kept awake by loud crashing and rain pouring through the cave roof holes. Every now and again, the dark cave briefly is lit up by a streak of lighting, which is followed moments later by a loud boom. Sometimes so loud, the ground shakes underneath us. 

Even though there’s no way of knowing, I can feel that it’s a new day, probably early morning. We have no more food left and normally, I would go hunt, but due to the storm, I doubt I’ll be able to hit anything. Also, I don’t fancy making myself ill by going to the stream in this weather, so for water, I’ve sat my water bottle under one of the leaking holes. Just in case it’s not normal rain, I do have one last purification tablet left, so we’ll have to make this bottle last for however long we can.

A particularly loud crash jolts Rude awake. Another streak of lightning highlights his terrified and confused face, and he flinches when it’s followed by the thunder. But the brief light was enough for me to see the sweat across his face and the lack of colour of his dark skin. He must be sweating out the fever, meaning that he’ll be fully recovered soon. 

“Morning,” I say brightly to him as he sits next to me.

He yawns and wipes the gunk out of his eyes. “Hey. Man, that storm is loud.”

“Yet you were able to sleep right through it,” I joke, a grin on my face. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he mumbles. “A little cold.”

In reply, I pull the sleeping bag up to our chins and I hear him hum in content. Another flash then a much louder bang. I wonder if this storm is covering the whole arena or if it’s just over our hiding spot. The gamemakers can see we have no food supplies, so are they trying to force us out in the open for us to find some? Are they hoping that in our search we’ll be found by our enemy? Red only died a few hours ago so the audience can’t be that bloodthirsty already. Usually a death is enough to keep everyone content for a while. And if my and Rude’s love story is captivating the crowd, they’ll want to keep us alive as long as possible. We may even be the favourites to win!

To add to the act, I cuddle closer to Rude, but in reality, I’m using him for his body heat. He’s probably doing the same as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. We don’t say a word as the rain gets heavier and the thunder and lighting becomes louder and more frequent. But as we wait for the thunder from a particularly bright bolt, my heart momentarily stops when it’s a cannon instead.

We scramble into alert sitting positions and stare at each other. “Who was it?” I blurt.

“Heidegger,” Rude replies. “He couldn’t have taken out Scarlet!”

“I shot her in the leg,” I say, not even trying to hide my excitement. “Not enough to kill her but maybe she hurt herself badly trying to heal it. Or maybe Heidegger saw his opportunity and killed her before she could kill him? Maybe he didn’t want to share the win.”

“Or one of them was killed by a trap or creature,” Rude grins. “Three left. Two against one. Tifa! Oh my word, we could do this! We can go back home!”

I laugh as I tackle him to the ground and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms encircle my waist and he pulls me down into a heat seared kiss. Surprised, I kiss him back and shock myself when a small groan escapes from the back of my throat. My mouth opens voluntarily and his tongue enters, warring with my own. I pull back a few seconds later, embarrassed by the display and I try to hide my face from any cameras watching us. 

I’m in no way attracted to Rude so why did I kiss him like that? So intensely? Extreme jubilation is a funny thing. I can’t even look him in the eyes as I wrap us both up with the sleeping bag. I blame the shaking of my body and the thudding of my heart on the excitement of returning home. In no way did Rude’s lips affect me. It was a kiss filled with emotion and I bet the audience is eating it up. This whole act is for their benefit and I hope it gets us more goodies, as I’m unable to hunt due to the storm that is still above us. 

“Heidegger will be easy to take out with an arrow,” Rude says, deep in thought, like the kiss didn’t affect him in any way. “But if Scarlet is still alive, we may need another tactic. Whoever is still alive will be on high alert. It’ll have to take both of us to take them down.”

“They won’t be hiding up a tree,” I add, remembering how Scarlet fell from the tree I had been hiding up before I dropped a Tracker Jacker nest onto them. And Piggy will be too heavy to get too far up. Rude must remember the same scene and he chuckles. “They’ll probably use the cornucopia as shelter. Now that they’re on their own, they’ll be waiting for us to go to them, then surprise attack us.”

“From what I saw when being with them, Heidegger is good with a sword and Scarlet is a great shot with her knives. Heidegger will ambush us in close combat but Scarlet will keep her distance. If she’s the one still alive, we have to make it a sneak attack.”

“I really hope she’s the dead one,” I hum. “Heidegger doesn’t scare me like she does.”

I hear Rude chuckle again. “But if she’s alive, the gamemakers will get the ending they want. You and Scarlet fighting to the death. But I don’t think me still being alive was part of that plan.”

“You’ll be my personal cheerleader,” I mock. “We’ll make you some pom-poms out of weeds.”

“I’ll work on my cheer,” he laughs. “Tifa! Tifa! She’s our lass. Go on sweety, kick the blonde bitch’s ass!”

We both splutter with laughter, so much that tears are running down my cheeks. For the first time since the Games started, I’m crying for a good thing. It feels so amazing, that I don’t want to stop. Even the booms from the thunder can’t seem to stop me. My laughter dies down and with a pleased sigh, I grab the now full water bottle and drop my last pill into it. Seeing it dissolve I’m reminded of when I drugged the boy next to me. “Don’t worry,” I giggle. “This won’t put you to sleep.”

He chuckles and leans back into the cave wall. “Once this storm is over, we should leave,” he says. “Find Heidegger or Scarlet and get out of this arena. The faster we win, the faster we get to go home.” He heaves a sigh and his eyes slide shut. “I can almost smell home. The fresh bread, the pastries and the cupcakes. Even my mother's cheese scones smell heavenly, and I don’t even like them.”

  
My stomach rumbles at the sound of so much delicious food. Stuff that I’ve never been able to afford. Things that if I win, I can have for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to use my Victor winnings on such treats. I want to be there to see Denzel's face the first time he bites into a meat filled pastry or something sweet like a doughnut or cookie. I won’t have to trade my hunt kills for such delicacies anymore. I could just walk down to the butchers and buy things with Gil in my hand instead of a rabbit to trade. I’ll still go hunting as I’ll never not enjoy the thrill of it, but now, anything I catch can all go to Reno. We won’t have to split it between us anymore. Plus, I still owe him a squirrel. 

“We’ll leave whenever you feel ready,” I tell him. “I’m good whenever but you still look a little ill. A little bit more sleep and a meal will sort you out. They’ll be plenty of animals out when the rain ends. I’ll bring us back a rabbit or something.”

“As long as you get your arrow back,” he says, not opening his eyes. “You’ll need it to take out Scarlet.”

Or Piggy if we spot him from afar. I don’t need to say it out loud. But until we find out for certain who we’re up against, we can only theorise how we’re going to take down our final opponent. Piggy will be a lot easier but a part of me really wants it to be Scarlet. A sadistic part of me wants my triumphant face to be the last thing she ever sees. Another dark part also wants to see her die. I know I’ll be shown it during the post victory interview, but seeing it on the screen won’t be the same as watching it in real life. 

I try to shut out those dark thoughts and images. I don’t want this arena to turn me into a killing machine. I don’t want to be one of those tributes who takes joy in the suffering of others. When people remember me, I don’t want them thinking of how I laughed and smiled when I murdered my opponent. I want to be remembered due to my talent and passion and my kindness. I want people to remember my alliance with Marlene and my tears for Red. And for how I put myself in danger to save the boy who I won with. 

With those thoughts, I sit back and pass the water bottle to Rude. “We need to make it last.”

He doesn’t say a word as he takes a sip.

*

Night comes and the storm is still going. But it is a little calmer now. Our cave floor is covered in puddles but luckily, our sleeping bags were far away from any of the holes. The sound of rain is so soothing, it sent Rude to sleep. I remember jolting from my own nap when his head dropped onto my shoulder. We still need a look out, so I’m forcing myself to stay awake. Also, when the anthem starts, I’m going to have to go up and see whose picture they show. Once we have that information, we can start our real battle plan. No more theories and half cocked plans. But a real strategy to get the hell out of this arena.

I can’t wait for this to be over. I’m done. I’m exhausted, in pain and homesick. I miss everyone back in Nibelheim, even the cruel girls who call me Titfa. I don’t care about how I win. Right now, I wish a trap would take out the last Junon tribute. Then we could leave now, without even leaving the cave. 

As I yawn, I hear the start of the anthem, but as I scramble to get up, a hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. I try to tug it free, but Rude has me in an iron tight grip. His eyes are wide and glassy. He’s not awake as he trembles. “Don’t leave me,” he whimpers. “Not again. You can’t go.”

“I’m coming back,” I insist, trying to get him to let go. Damn. I don’t have time for this. “I’ll be one minute, Rude. I promise.”

“You promised not to go,” he continues, his hold getting even tighter. I wince as nails dig into my skin. “You still went.”

“I came back,” I say. The anthem is halfway through so I won’t have time to see the image if he doesn’t let go of me right now. “Please. I’ll only be a minute. I just need to-”

“They’ll kill you if you go,” he cries, and he’s sobbing. “I can’t lose you!”

“Rude,” I snap, losing patience. I need to get out. I need to see who died! “Let go. You’re hurting me. Now!”

“Tif-”

“Now!” I yell as my other hand snaps to attention and slams into the side of his head. He yelps as he lets go. I momentarily see his eyes come back into focus as my slap fully wakes him up, but I have no time to apologise. I turn on my heel and run towards the entrance of the cave. I curse when the anthem ends the moment I burst out. I trip over some rocks and scrape my chin across the stones and pebbles as I slide across the ground. I flip onto my back and stare up into the sky, but all I see is the Midgar emblem as the anthem starts again, indicating that the image has came and gone. 

“ _FUCK_!” I missed it! I screech and scream all curse words I know as I’m pelted with rain. Damn Rude! Damn him to hell and back. I should have just broken his fingers the moment he grabbed me. I shouldn’t have wasted time trying to plead with him. 

I groan as I get to my feet. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll find out soon who we’re up against but it would have been nice to know who. Nice to have a plan tailored to them. As I head back towards the cave entrance, a flash of lighting shines on something metallic hanging from the vines covering the cave. With urgency, I jump and grab the parachute and open the tin with ernest. Inside is a pot of stone cold soup. I wonder how long it’s been there. I replace the lid and head back inside. 

Rude looks dazed when I get back to him. His eyes light up when he sees me. “Well? Who was it?”

I shrug, annoyed. “Missed it.”

“How?”

In answer, I lift up my arm and show him my wrist which is red raw from his hold, dark bruises already forming. His eyes widen with horror and his jaw drops. “Shit! _I_ did that? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. Tifa, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it,” I groan, fed up of hearing his apologies. “It doesn’t matter. But good news. Someone sent us a gift.”

I open the tin and show Rude the soup inside. I flip the lid over and spot three things taped to the bottom. Two spoons and a note. I rip the paper off and hand the lid to Rude so he can free the spoons. In the dim light, I barely make out Clouds words.

 **‘** _Count the cannons_ ’

I turn the paper over but it’s blank. Just three words. Short like the other note telling me to look up. What the hell does this mean? At least the other note was simple and easy to follow. I understand that the notes need to be a little cryptic but seriously? Count the cannons? How will that help us know who we’re up against? 

I pass the note to Rude who doesn’t seem to get it either. “There were twenty one cannons,” he says, taking the night vision sunglasses off. “Unless I missed one?”

“I counted all the people when they showed up on the screen. And no one died when I was passed out. I asked Marlene and she said there were none.”

Mentally I go through all the deaths in no particular order. Eleven died to begin with during the bloodbath. Two in the fire. Marlene, Palmer and Red. The girl who built the fire the first night. One died the night before Marlene did. Elena by my own hand, and the boy whose neck was snapped by Scarlet after I blew up the supplies. And lastly either Piggy or Scarlet. Still twenty one.

I even list them in various orders. I go by town order, then reverse death order and then list the female deaths and then the male ones. No matter what, I still come up with a total of twenty one deaths. Rude confirms the same total.

I take the note back and try to find a hidden sign in it. Is it an anagram? Maybe even a skip code? What if I hold it upside down? Squint while tilting my head? Nothing. Just three useless words. 

Stupid Cloud. Couldn’t he have sent a useful clue? A simple hint would do. Only Rude, Cloud, Genesis and I know I call Heidegger Piggy, so he could have sent the note with the word ‘oink’ on it, or even a hint leading to the colour red to indicate Scarlet. But then I think, even if he had put something like that, we’d still be arguing whether that means that the person on the note was the one who died or if they’re the one still alive. 

But why send a super useful note before and a useless one now? If he could tell me to look up and see the Tracker Jacker nest, then surely he could write down who died. It’s not like it’ll be breaking too many rules. The gamemakers show us who died every time there’s a death, so they shouldn’t have a problem with my mentor telling me the same. 

Or did the gamemakers stop Cloud from sending me the answer I need? Are they still bitter from when I shot an arrow at them? Or do they truly want a Junon Victor instead of a Nibelheim one? I can see why they would prefer that. Junon is a lot more useful to Midgar than Nibelheim is.

“Let’s just eat,” Rude sighs. “My brain is scrambled. There’s only so many times I can count to twenty one.”

The three useless words memorised, I scrunch up the paper, take out the Materia and hold my hand out for the tin. “Might as well put this note to some actual use.”

I cut off bits of my socks so that they’re ankle length and use the cotton and the paper to light a fire. It takes a few goes with the Materia, but soon we have a little fire going. I place the tin over the flames and wait until the soup starts to bubble. When done, we both dig in. Beef and vegetable, one of my favourites when dining in Midgar. This must have cost quite a bit. Gifts in the Games get more expensive the longer the Games are and the less tributes are still alive. With three of us left, even soup would take a lot of hard work from our mentors to get. Probably would have taken the efforts of both Cloud and Genesis working together. 

As we almost finish the meal, Rude lets out a loud belch and in embarrassment, covers his mouth with both of his hands. “Excuse me.”

  
I smirk. “Manners. Jenova would be so proud.” I glance at the leftover soup and push it towards him. “Here. The rest is yours.”

Rude lets out a wicked grin and stares up at the cave wall, staring into a particular spot. I squint and see it. How could I miss the camera hidden between the rocks? Now that I see it, it’s obvious. “Hey Jenova,” Rude declares. “How’s this for manners?”

He throws his spoon casually over his shoulder, places the side of the tin to his lips and bends his head backwards and lets the soup slide noisily down his throat. He slurps and groans and crunches the vegetables, mouth open for all to see. I can’t help but laugh as he makes a show of cleaning the bowl with his tongue, all the while still staring directly at the camera.

Jenova must be horrified at the display. Probably muttering about how uncultured we mountainside hicks are. With my mouth stretched into a huge grin, I wave my arms at the camera in over exaggerated movements. “We love you Jenova! We miss you!”

Rude blows a final kiss to the camera and places the lid on the empty tin. “Ah, take the humour when you can.”

“We’re never going to hear the end of it when we see her again,” I smile. “We’re going to be subjected to so many classes on how to behave properly. Turn us into a real lady and gentleman.”

“You’ll look fabulous in a big ballgown,” Rude says softly. “You look great in anything. Even these ugly rags.”

“Shut up,” I say lightheartedly. I don’t think I can take any compliments right now. I have no energy to start acting again. In fact, I just want to sleep. 

As the embers of our fire ebb away, we curl up in our sleeping bags and listen to the rain and the wind. The thunder and lightning ended as we were eating, so hopefully the storm will be gone by the morning. Without telling Rude that he's the guard for the night, I fall asleep the moment my eyes shut.


	17. Chapter 17. The Victor

I hear birds sing as we leave the cave the next morning. The storm has completely passed but it took so much along with it. The stream has dried up and the leaves on the trees have all fallen to the ground. Even the berry bushes are free of their fruit. This is not nature. This is the gamemakers telling us to move. They’re done watching us hide in the cave. They want their finale and they want it sooner rather than later. They want it today.

We still have half a bottle of water left. I’m so glad I took the initiative and filled it with rain water. If I hadn’t, there’s no stream to refill it. The only other water source beside a few hidden ponds, is the lake back at the cornucopia. We’ll be heading there today. I’m sure that’s where we’ll find Piggy or Scarlet. The finale should be set in an open meadow with no trees or boulders obscuring the view of the action. The Victor was always going to claim their win there.

Rude is good to go. He’s limping a little bit, but it’s not really hindering his gait. Other than being a little tired, he’s perfectly fine. The colour has come back to his face and he’s no longer sweating due to fever. The sweat on both our brows is down to the sun up above us. It’s hotter than ever. The gamemakers really don’t want us to stay here. 

We head into the forest and use the tree trunks for much needed shade. Our feet crunch the leaves under us and the sound scares any potential prey. I keep my bow and arrow at my side, ready for anything. I don’t want to risk being wrong about our enemy hiding at the meadow. I can’t lose focus just in case we’re suddenly ambushed. 

“Nervous?” Rude asks. 

I don’t turn to look at him. “Absolutely. But I’m more eager than nervous. I just want this over and done with.”

“Yeah,” Rude replies as we get to a part of the forest where the leaves are still attached to the trees. “I can’t wait to spend a night not worrying whether I’ll wake up again.”

  
“A bed,” I hum. “Just the thought of sleeping in a bed again.”

Rude chuckles and I turn to flash him a smile, but the second my lips start to pull up, my foot steps on some kind of hidden button. We both let out identical screeches as powerful red lasers shoot up from the ground and up into the sky. I jump back, colliding with a tree and I scream again as darts fly out of nowhere towards me. I duck, using my arms to cover my head. I hear the darts slam into the tree trunk above me, and the next moment, I feel something heavy jump on top of me. 

Rude lets out a pained grunt. I open my eyes and see that he’s on top of me, shielding me from the darts. We stay in this position for a few more seconds until I push him off of me. He rolls limply onto the ground and clutches at his arm.

“Rude!” I yelp, quickly crawling over to him and seeing a dart sticking out of his bicep. I rip it out and take his face in my shaking hands. “Open your eyes!”

He does but his eyes don’t lock onto me. Instead they’re rolling in their sockets, his pupils blown so much, I can’t see the brown of his irises. I give his cheeks a little slap but it doesn’t help him focus. As I wildly look around for anything that can help, he suddenly lets out an ear piercing scream and starts mumbling about how the frogs are going to kill him and turn him into a coat. He shudders violently, lets out a wet gurgle then stills, his breathing coming out in quick pants.

I recognise it immediately. Those darts must have been loaded with Tracker Jacker venom or something very similar. This is what I must have looked like to Rude back when he saved me. And he’s saved me once again by using his own body to shield me. I owe this boy so much that it’ll take five lifetimes to repay him. 

I blame myself for this one. I should have been looking where I was going. If I was, I could have seen the trap and avoided it. We’re lucky Rude was a few steps behind me, or he would have been hit and sliced by those lasers. But what set off the darts? Was it me hitting the tree or was it triggered along with the lasers? I don’t care as I glance down at Rude. 

As quickly as the poison came, it leaves. While I’m thinking of what to do, Rude’s eyes fly open and his pupils are back to normal size. He opens his mouth but all that comes out as a choked croak. I gently place my palm on his shoulder and he slowly touches the back of my hand with his fingertips before his arm drops heavily to his side. He groans as he tries to sit up. 

“Sshh,” I say as I grab the water bottle and unscrew the cap. “Here. Small sips.”

I place the bottle under his lips and tilt. He sucks in a mouthful of liquid and swallows. He grunts when he's done and lets his head fall back. “I remember something about frogs,” he whispers. 

I let out a relieved chuckle. “They wanted to turn you into a coat. But I won’t let them.”

He mumbles about stupid amphibians as he sits up, using my arms to balance himself. He rubs his arm where the dart hit and his palm comes back spotted with blood. I take a peek but it’s nothing bad, just a little pin prick that’ll stop bleeding soon. 

We get to our feet and as Rude gets his breath back, I reach behind me and put the bottle back into my backpack, but as I zip it shut, I catch sight of movement in the bushes. As quick as possible, I arm myself with my bow, my aim right at the bushes that I saw rustling. Following my lead, Rude takes his knife out and crouches into a fighting stance. Scarlet or Piggy must have found us. 

I hear a growl before something slams into me. I cry out in pain and swig my bow towards where I saw a flash of black. Then I hear an animal like screech as Rude slices at something. My eyes flick to him just in time to see a large black dog leap towards Rude, it’s jaws open and ready to bite. 

I push Rude aside and the hound slams into a tree. It yelps in pain and crumples to the ground. I get a split second to take it in. It’s not a normal canine. It’s about the size of a rottweiler and as heavily muscled as a bull. Its head is large and square shaped and it’s brown teeth are as long as my palm. It’s short fur is black and it’s skin is stretched painfully tight over it’s huge, barrel like body.

But as I’m taking in the sight of the mutt, I’m yanked painfully to the ground. I scream as something latches around my arm and drags me across the floor. I feel sharp fangs deep in my arm, ripping and tearing at my flesh. I call out for Rude but when he turns to me, a yellow mutt jumps towards him. Without a weapon, all I can do is curl my fingers into a fist and punch whatever has me in the face. My knuckles slam into a similar mongrel, blood spurting out of it’s black nose. It momentarily lets go of me as it jumps back from the sudden pain. It shakes its large head and I take this time to get to my feet. I aim my bow but something makes me not shoot it.

It’s eyes are a soft brown, but the colour is not what has stopped me. These eyes are not animal eyes, but the eyes of a human. Eyes I have seen before. Ones that watched me as I sang to the person who owned them. They’re Marlene's eyes. 

What the hell has Midgar created? Have they taken the eyes from fallen tributes and put them into these beasts or have they been altered to just look like them? I have no time to ponder the question as the Marlene-beast lunges at me. I use my last arrow to silence it forever. As it’s body slams to the ground, the air is filled with howls. At least five of them. We’re surrounded.

“We have to go!” Rude shouts as he slices at another beast that I see has Red’s eyes and red fur. His aim misses and the Red-beast runs back into the bushes. “Quickly!”

I nod and we run. If I’m to guess, these beasts are herding us to the meadow. They’re much faster than us at running because they’re all around us, behind, at our sides and even ahead. If we’re off course, they lung towards us and snap at our ankles. My arms pump quickly as I run as fast as I can, my wounded arm screaming in pain at the movement. 

We dodge trees and jump over rocks and stumps and in no time we climb the embankment and crash into the meadow. I stumble to the ground and wait to be jumped on by a beast but nothing happens. Taking in deep breaths, I glance towards the trees and see them guarding the forest edge, making sure we don’t go back inside. The Red-beast howls and slinks back behind the trees, just waiting to pounce if we dare leave this meadow. 

Rude bends towards me, heaving air in and out of his lungs. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, you?” I ask.

He holds his hand out for me to take. “I’m-”

He’s cut off as he’s thrown to the ground. I screech as I scramble to my feet and jump onto whoever has Rude pinned to the floor. Piggy laughs as he wraps his large meaty hands around Rude’s throat, his sword thrown to the side. I slam my fists into the back of Piggy's head but he simply turns and slaps me across the face, sending me to the floor.

Piggy continues to cackle as his chubby fingers wrap around Rude’s throat again, Rude too weak to throw the larger boy off of him. I lunge at Piggy again, curling my fingers around his face and digging my nails into his cheeks. I scream as one of my fingers finds its way into his eye socket. 

With as much strength as I can muster, I slowly bend Piggy back, using my body weight and pure strength to rip him away from Rude. I wrap my legs around him and hold him down long enough to let Rude up. Holding his bruised throat in one hand, Rude grabs Piggy and in one swift movement, tears him out of my hold and flings him a few feet away from us. 

“You little swines,” Piggy snarls as he gets up, one hand covering his pierced eye. “You won’t take this win away from me!”

I ready my fists as he jumps toward us, incredibly fast for his size. But he doesn’t get anywhere near us as Rude grabs the sword from the ground and slams it through Piggys stomach. His eyes bulge as the point of the sword slices through him and out of his back. His mouth fills with blood, and as Rude brings the sword back out, his intestines follow. 

I watch in fascinated horror as our last opponent falls to his knees and attempts to gather his intestines in his arms. His arms are slippy with gore and his insides slide to the ground. 

“Help me,” he cries as he twists his convulsing body away from us, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh God please. Help.”

With one last gurgled cry, Piggy crumples to the floor and breathes his last breath. I fall to my own knees as the final cannon blasts. 

We did it! We won! 

Finally this horror is over with. I can go home. I can see my friends and family again. The thought brings manic giggles to fall out of my mouth and soon I’m full out laughing, tears streaming from my eyes. I flop onto my back and sprawl my limbs out, like a child making snow angels. But as my mirth slows, I realise something is not right. Our victory hasn't been announced. Usually when a Victor wins, a fanfare goes off and the voice of Tseng congratulates the winner and the sound of the audience cheering plays. All I can hear are birds tweeting and Rudes laboured breaths. 

Rude comes to the same conclusion. “Hey!” he shouts up at the sky. “We played your game and we won! You said we could both be crowned Victors if we came from the same town!”

I sit up and wait. Surely they’re messing with us even further by delaying our victory. Sure their big finale wasn’t me and Scarlet like they wanted, but we won fair and square.

“What’s the hold up?” I shout. “Announce us as winners already!”

Frustrated, I jump to my feet. I hope someone is getting in trouble for this delay. This is what everyone has been waiting for. They want a Victor and here we are, ready to be crowned and leave. Twenty-four down to two! 

Two? Rude and I. Victor. Not a plural. Aside from Zack and Aerith, there has never been a double victory. Zack and Aerith won because they threatened double suicide. Because they were truly in love. Do the gamemakers believe Rude and I will do the same? Of course not. The crowd may have fallen for our love act, but we haven't fooled the people who really matter. They know that we won’t threaten to do the same. 

They were _never_ going to let us both win. 

I look at Rude as he turns to me, bloody sword in his hand. His face is full of sorrow as he figures it out too. We’re to fight to the death. Only one of us will leave here alive. I tighten my gloves and wait for him to move first. 

Denzel's face flashes before my eyes. Not the face of a boy who is healthy and chubby cheeked, but a thin kid whose face is gaunt and hollow. The face of a child on death's doorstep. Denzel is only alive because of the boy stood in front of me. Rude saved Denzel's life, not me. Because of that stupid loaf of half burnt bread. I can’t hurt the one person who kept my family alive, let alone kill them. I owe Rude my life. If anyone should go home, it’s not me.

With a heavy heart, I drop my arms to my side. “Go on,” I whisper. “I won’t move a muscle. I promise it won’t hurt.”

His eyes widen. “No,” he growls, ramming the sword into the grass. “You have to go on. People need you.”

“Not as much as they need you,” I say, grabbing the sword and putting it back into his sweaty hand, placing the point above my heart. I wince as I feel the sharpness. “Promise me you’ll help my family. Denzel loves strawberries.”

His hand trembles as he drops the sword again. “I can’t, Tifa,” he grumbles. “I love you.”

I try not to react. _Even now_? I curse Genesis under my breath. “Stop it,” I say, my lips trembling. “Stop it right now. You don’t need to act anymore. You win, Rude. You don’t need to pretend to love me for the audience. _You've won_.”

  
“What act?” he whispers, lifting his hand and caressing my cheek. I lean into the touch. “I’ve never lied to you. Everything I’ve said is the truth. I was too scared to say it before. Even back in Nibelheim. I love you Tifa Lockhart. I have done for years.”

  
A sob leaves my mouth before I can stop it. If he won’t end this, I will. “If you love me,” I cry in anger. “Kill me!”

  
I bend and reach for the sword, intending to either convince him to stab me or slice my own throat, but as my fingers curl around the hilt, I hear a sharp grunt above me. I quickly straighten up and my mouth opens in a silent scream. 

Rude reaches out to me as he falls backwards to the ground, a long spear skewered through his chest.


	18. Chapter 18

Rude lands with a thud that sends my blood cold. His eyes are wide and his lips are moving but I can’t hear what he’s saying. The world has stopped turning. My lungs refuse to take in air and my legs turn to jelly. My heart is beating furiously in my chest, so hard it’s all I can hear.

Almost in slow motion, I turn and I see Scarlet behind me, a manic grin on her face, wearing a chainmail vest, knife raised in the air, ready to throw. Instinctively, I lift my arm in the air to block the knife flying towards my face. By some dumb luck, the knife pings off the sword and rickochets to the side, slamming off the golden body of the cornucopia. 

With all my strength and without even thinking, I throw the sword at her. She easily ducks it and all I can see is blood caked blonde hair as she crashes into me and knocks me to the ground. I scream as her fingers weave in between my hair and she pulls my head up only to sharply slam it back down. 

Pain floods around my body as my head connects with the ground over and over again, stars floating around my vision. I copy her actions and grab fistfuls of her hair, trying to pull her off me. She screeches like a banshee as I force her head back. 

Quickly, I get my legs around her waist and roll her on her back. She snarls as she yanks my head down, my forehead slamming into the grass over her shoulder. Dazed, I release her hair and I’m too shocked to move when she lunges and sinks her teeth into my throat. I can feel my skin tear as I put my palms into her face and push her back. Blood gushes down my chest and I attempt to stop the flow with one of my hands. 

Scarlet spits out a lump of my flesh and grins up at me, teeth stained red with my gore. “I told you, Nibelheim,” she cackles. “I told you I’d show the whole world that I’m way stronger than you. You must have given everyone blowjobs to have earned that eighteen.”

“Yet you’re the one that’s pinned,” I snap, using my free hand to hold her down by her throat. She doesn’t move to release my hair from her grip. “Stupid bitch.”

I risk glancing above her where Rude is. He’s unmoving, laying on the ground with the spear right through his chest. I can’t see if he’s breathing or not. But the cannon... it hasn’t gone off. There’s still time.

Scarlet must notice where my eyesight is. “Awwwww, are you upset that I killed your little boyfriend?” She splutters when my hand tightens around her throat. “Are you angry that we killed him like we killed Marlene?”

Teeth ground together, I slam my head into hers. We both groan at the contact but I smirk when she spits out a tooth. “Shut up,” I snarl. “You have no right to say her name.”

One of her hands untangles from my hair and I have no time to react as she punches me across the jaw. My teeth clamp around my tongue as I’m pushed off her. Scarlet quickly gets to her feet and kicks me in the ribs. 

Crying out loud, I curl up in a ball, protecting the softer parts of my body. Her feet connect wherever they can. My legs, my back, my arms and my skull. One kick lands right in my face and I’m sent sprawling on my back, fighting the stars from my vision away. 

But she doesn’t go for another strike. Watching her from the corner of my eye, I see her go over to the sword and pick it up, using her sleeve to wipe away Piggy’s blood. She inspects if for a moment and a sick grin works its way onto her face. 

“So much blood this sword has seen,” she says softly, trailing the weapon gently over Rude’s unmoving body. “But I think my favourite was that boy from Cosmo Canyon. Oh how he squealed as I slit his throat. Idiot thought he could run away with _my_ cargo. _My_ chainmail! I took delight in killing him.”

With effort, I flop onto my front and start crawling toward her. That sword is too close to Rude for my comfort. I can’t let her kill him. If I could just get my body over his, then maybe I can save him. Maybe I can finally start repaying my debt to him. Scarlet doesn’t see me slowly getting closer. She’s too busy deciding where to stab Rude. 

Once she finds her mark, I take my chance and lunge at her legs, wrapping both of my arms around her knees. Scarlet shouts and the sword comes down, deeply slicing through my right shoulder. It comes down again as I crawl up her body, and the tip grazes my cheek. I use her chainmail vest to grip her body as I continue to climb up her. As she raises the sword one last time, I reach out and take the blade in my hand, cutting my palm open. I don’t feel the pain as I rip it out of her grasp. 

She slaps my cheek as I use my legs to pin her body down and in reply I punch her squarely in the face, the metal studs on the knuckles of the gloves snap her nose to the side. Blood pours from her nostrils and into her mouth. I lift my fist up again and get her right in the cheek. Her hand reaches out and her nails dig into my wounded arm, but she soon let's go as my fist comes down again. 

It’s like I’m in a trance. I feel no pain or emotions. I’m on autopilot as I rain punches down on Scarlet, her face turning the colour as her namesake. Again and again I slam my hands down. Her eyes are swollen shut, her mouth is losing more and more teeth, her cheeks are stripped of skin. But I can’t stop. All my anger and frustration is being taken out on the girl under me. The girl who has been my sole fear for the past few weeks. 

_Slam_. Another tooth flys out. _Smack_. Her lip burst open. _Scratch_. Her lower jaw detaches.

I can’t even seem to stop. It’s not when I hear a boom that my fists stop moving. It’s like frost has de-iced over my eyes and I can see clear. My chest is heaving and my hands are trembling. They’re covered in blood, blonde hair, bits of loose flesh and something like pink jelly. The body under me is unrecognisable, the face completely caved in. If it wasn’t for the hair, I wouldn’t know who this person is. Or was. They’re dead. I killed them with my bare hands. 

Vomit races up my throat and I turn to the side to spew it out on the floor. The smell of blood hits my nose and I throw up again. Horrified, I leap away from the body and attempt to crawl away from it, tears and snot running freely down my face.

I did this. I bashed Scarlet's face into a pulp. I didn’t mean it. I know I wanted to kill her but not like this. Oh my God. Oh God. I’m a monster. I have no right to be called a winner after what I’ve just done. 

But the victory fanfare is still not playing. My victory is not being announced. And that’s because I’m not the last one alive. Rude’s heart must still be beating. With every ounce of strength I have left in me, I drag my beaten body over to him, hoping I can do something to save him. He deserves this victory, not me. He has to win.

His breathing is slow and shallow. His eyes are open and they find my face when I reach him. His attempt at a smile fails as he lifts his hand toward me. I take it in both of my gore soaked own.

“You did it,” he says weakly, blood dribbling down the corners of his mouth. “You won the Hunger Games.”

  
“Don’t say goodbye,” I demand, looking up and down his body and around the surrounding area. There must be something here that I can use to help him. Anything! “You’re not going anywhere.” 

I wrap one of my hands around the spear and contemplate pulling it out. But just a slight touch makes Rude groan in pain. “Tifa. It’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” I snap. “You’re going to make it. You’re going to live. Please. You can’t leave me. I lost Marlene and I’m not losing you too.”

  
“I’m happy,” he whispers, his voice getting lower and softer. “I’m so happy that you’re still alive. That you’ll be going home.”

“ _We’re_ going home,” I sob. “Both of us. I’ll find something to save you, I promise. I... I-”

His hand gently touches my face and wipes away the tears. I place my hand over his and kiss it. His skin is ice cold. I watch as the light begins to leave his eyes. He uses his last ounce of strength to give me a bright smile. 

“I love you.”

Those are his last words as his body goes limp and his eyes lose their light. His hand falls out of mine and hits the floor. Carefully, I reach out and touch his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. But he doesn’t move or say a word. 

“Rude,” I whisper, leaning over and caressing his face. “Rude, open your eyes. Rude, please don’t leave me!” I’m full on shaking his limp body from side to side, screaming his name over and over again. Why isn’t he answering me? Why isn’t he saying something? Rude!

The cannon blasts and I completely lose it.

“I hate you,” I scream. “Midgar. Shinra. The Games. The people. I hate you all. Fuck all of you to hell and back. Mark my words. I’ll do everything in my power to get rid of every single one of you bastards.”

The victory fanfare blasts overhead, masking my words but I don’t care. I just continue even louder. 

“Only monsters can enjoy watching this. Anyone who takes pleasure in children killing one another has a black heart and an ugly soul. I hope all you fuckers die in the most gruesome way possible. You worthless, disgusting, heartless cretins. I hate you all!”

A hovercraft blows wind around my body. It ruffles my hair and strands of it stick to the blood covering my face. A ladder tumbles out the side of it and a voice tells me to grab onto it. I don’t budge. I wrap my arms protectively around Rude’s body tightly and bury my face into his neck. 

I’m told again to grab the ladder but I still don’t move. I hear another hovercraft overhead and know that it’s taking away the bodies of Piggy and Scarlet. I hold on even tighter to Rude. I won’t let them take him too. 

“Miss Lockhart, please grab hold of the ladder. If you don’t we’ll take you in by force.”

“Go away,” I scream, my face still in Rude’s neck. “Let me die here.”

  
“Miss Lockhart-”

Go away.

“Please-”

I don’t want to continue living.

“Grab hold of the ladder-”

These Games have taken away from me so much.

“Or we’ll take you in by force.”

I won’t let you take Rude. 

I don’t know how long I stay with Rude’s body but it seems like a lifetime. But I don’t care. I’ll die here with him. My family will understand. Denzel would have seen what I did to Scarlet and he won’t want me to come back home. He’ll be disgusted and horrified. My hands are tainted. These hands will never be free of blood.

I hear the sound of footsteps behind me and I scream as two pairs of hands roughly grab my arms and lift me up. I try to wiggle free but they're too strong. I kick my feet, hoping to strike one of them, but they don’t even react. The Troopers drag me over to the ladder and as they place my hands onto it some kind of force glues me in place. I can’t free my hands from the rungs. It’s like my palms and the rungs are polar opposites of magnets. 

I get one last kick to one of their stomachs before I’m being lifted up. The sound of a crowd cheering roars around the arena as the voice of Tseng yells my name with pride. Fireworks go off in the distance and from this height I get a good look at the arena. Trees go on for miles and as I’m being lifted higher, I sneak a glance at the mountains where Rude and I stayed in a cave. The second hovercraft lowers to the ground and I watch with anger as Rude’s limp body is collected. 

Once I’m in the hovercraft, whatever glued me to the ladder disappears and I slam to the metal floor. Many pairs of hands grab me from all sides but I fight them off. I punch, kick and bite anyone who comes near me. I scream until my throat is raw. 

That's when a man in a white lab coat jabs something into my arm and I quickly lose consciousness. 

*

I’m blinded by lights when I open my eyes. I feel warm and comfortable and I don’t want to move. I haven't felt this free of pain in ages. I can’t wait to tell Reno all about the horrible nightmare I had. I’m sure we’ll have a good laugh about it as we’re hunting.

But it soon all comes back to me. This wasn’t a nightmare. The last few weeks were reality. I trained and honed my skills and was thrown into an arena where I bled and burned. I killed people who were trying to kill me. I saved a boy only for him to be killed by the hands of a girl I hated. My hands were her demise. I was crowned the Victor of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. 

Next to me, I hear beeps getting louder and faster, and the mask around my face gets hotter and misted. My fingers dig into the sheets under me and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat. When I think I’m about to pass out, I feel a gentle hand on my arm. I recoil violently from the touch.

“Hey Tifa, calm down sweetheart. You’re safe now. I promise. You’re going to be OK.”

Cloud! He’s here. I let out a sob and rip the mask off my face. My eyes meet his and they’re full of kindness. He gives me a soft smile.

“Cloud,” I cry, finding it hard to get my words out. “Rude . . . and Marlene. Red and Scarlet and... and-”

“I know,” he says sadly, patting my hand. “I know.”

“I couldn’t save them,” I moan. “I couldn’t protect Marlene and Rude took that spear instead of me.”

  
He doesn’t say a word. Just lets me cry and sob. I’m still crying when a nurse joins us and checks my vitals. The hospital room we’re in is too bright and white and smells strongly of antiseptic. The gown I’m in scratches against my tender skin. Once I calm down, I direct a glare at my mentor.

“Count the cannons,” I snarl. “ _Count the cannons_. You were trying to tell me that both Heidegger and Scarlet were still alive. Your note was fucking useless.”

“The gamemakers wouldn’t let me tell you straight up that you falsely heard a cannon,” Cloud grumbles. “When that soup came in, I had five minutes to think up something to put on the note. I tried to think of a way to let you know that they were both still alive but anything I wrote was rejected. I didn't have time to think up a riddle that you could decipher so _count the cannons_ was the only thing I could think to write. It was either that or nothing.”

“So what did Rude and I hear then?” I snap. “Because I’m certain it was a cannon.”

He rolls his eyes. “A second bolt of lightning hit the side of the mountain before the thunder of the first sounded. I don’t blame you for thinking it was a cannon because it did sound like it.”

I slap my own forehead and groan. Of course. How did I not realise that? We saw the flash of lightning but the thunder didn’t follow. In our excitement, Rude and I must have not heard the following thunder. Stupid thunderstorm. No, stupid me. 

“How long have I been here?” I ask, covering my eyes with my hands. 

“Two days,” Cloud replies. “Everytime you woke up you started freaking out so they had to keep on sedating you. You were so high on drugs that I doubt you remember.”

  
I shake my head and let out a long sigh. Two days for the medics to get my body in tip top condition. Enough time to heal my injuries and erase my scars. They’ll want me to look like a supermodel next time I’m put in front of a camera. Now that I’m awake and lucid, they’ll want to move on to my post victory interview. I shudder when I think of the questions Lazard will ask me. _How did it feel when Marlene was killed? What went through your head when you saw Scarlet? Tell me in detail your emotions as you held a dying Rude in your arms?_

“How much of the ending did they show?” I ask, remembering my outburst when Rudes cannon went off. 

“The audio cut off around about the time you called Midgar useless cretins,” Cloud says with humour. “Then came back on as you were being lifted into the hovercraft surrounded by fireworks and cheering.”

“How much trouble am I in?” I'm sure my speech pissed off a lot of people, especially President Shinra. I’m going to have to do so much damage control. 

“Can’t say,” Cloud replies. “The citizens of Midgar will be easily swayed by a few pretty words during your interview. But I don’t know about President Shinra or the gamemakers. At the moment, the after Games show is painting you in a good light. Everyone's favourite moment is when you sang Marlene to sleep.”

“To death,” I growl, sitting up. “She’s dead, not asleep. That spear went right through her chest. She stopped breathing. She’ll no longer laugh or sing or get angry. Marlene is gone!”

He snorts. “Preaching to the choir here, sweetheart. Don’t get pissy with me. I know exactly how you feel.”

  
My automatic response is to tell him that he doesn’t know what I’m going through, but he does. He knows all too well what is going through my mind. He’s experienced just as much horror as I have. 

I sigh and look around. It’s too quiet with just the two of us. “Where’s Genesis and Jenova?”

  
“Out and about, telling people that your outburst were the words of a traumatised young girl who had just watched the love of her life die in her arms,” Cloud mumbles. 

I hold back a snort of cruel laughter. “Why would Genesis care about me? He didn’t even care about his own tribute. Poor Rude received nothing from him.”

“Genesis wasn’t going to send Rude stuff when he was with the Careers,” Cloud explains. “They would have taken it from him. And the stuff for his leg was super expensive. Him teaming with Scarlet lost him a lot of sponsors. It took a lot of effort from Genesis to get enough people to chip in. But people were falling over themselves to give him Gil as soon as you and Rude started getting all loved up. The gamemakers took the medicine as soon as Genesis got it because they wanted to use it for the feast. Genesis was furious. Said there would be no love story if one of the participants died.”

  
“Love,” I grumble. “I cared deeply for Rude but I didn’t love him.”

“Fooled everyone,” Cloud mutters. “Even me. Look, it’s late. I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted. No one is going to bother you until morning. They’ll probably see how well you can move and then you’ll be discharged.”

“And then I’ll be shoved into a pretty dress and forced to watch the Games and commentate on it,” I snarl. “And at the same time, pretend that I’m super happy that I won and act like I love all of Midgar.”

“Yeah, pretty much. The arena was the easy part,” Cloud says as I lay back and get comfortable. I close my eyes and try to relax. “The Hunger Games has only just begun.”


	19. Chapter 19

The television in my hospital room is turned on as a nurse assesses my mobility. On the screen sits Lazard Deusericus in a bright blue suit, a replica of the Fenrir pin sits pride of place on his chest. The real pin is sat on the table next to me, gleaming as bright as ever. 

The crowd is silent as Lazard talks directly into the camera. He tells them that I am finally awake and that I can’t wait to see all of them and answer any of their questions. They show a clip of me in my hospital bed, a fake smile across my face. This morning, a camera crew and beauty team came into my room and told me to smile and wave at the camera and tell everyone that I love them and miss them. My face was smothered in cream and powders and my hair was brushed and curled. Even in a hospital bed and gown, I look ready to strut down a catwalk. 

“Hey everyone,” the Tifa on the screen says brightly. “I can’t wait to see all of you again. I miss you all so much. Much love.” I blow them a kiss and give them a wink and the screen goes back to the studio. The camera pans across the crowd who are cheering and chanting my name. A tiny smile comes to my face when I hear someone shout: “Marry me, Tifa!”

Lazard laughs then tells everyone to stay tuned because tomorrow night, my interview will be broadcast live to the world. The audience is wished a goodnight and then the Midgar emblem appears on the screen, joined by the anthem. I try to not automatically look up at the roof, something I’ve been used to doing for the twelve days I was in the arena. No more faces of the dead will appear in the sky. Not until next year's Hunger Games at least.

The nurse chuckles as the program comes to an end. “Don’t worry about the interview, dear. Everyone adores you.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, almost shyly. 

“Don’t tell Genesis but I think you may be my favourite ever Victor,” the nurse continues as she stretches my arms. I’m relieved that I feel no pain. “I sobbed for ages when Rude died and I had to leave the room when you were singing to that little girl. I was inconsolable for hours.”

I don’t say a word as she finishes up. I don’t even know what to say back. Thank you for your tears? I’m sorry you felt sad? It must have been so  _ awful  _ for you. 

I bite back a retort and force a tight smile as she packs away her things. “I believe you’re all ready to be discharged. You’re as healthy as can be. I’ll let Cloud know and then you can go back to your room.”

I nod as she leaves. I grab the remote for the television and skip to another channel. But there isn’t one. There is only one channel and it’s dedicated to the Games. Frustrated, I turn it off. As I change into some clean clothes that Cloud provided me with this morning, the blond enters the room. 

I see him blush as I quickly put my top on. “All set?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, grabbing the Fenrir badge from the table. “I can't stay here any longer.”

Cloud smiles and nods to my hand. “Told you it was lucky.”

I uncurl my fingers from around the pin. Two out of the three people who have worn this in the arena came back alive. The gold of the wolf shines under the intense lights.

I hand it back to him. “You should let next year's tribute wear it.”

He laughs. “Only really special people get to wear this. I don’t hand it out to just anyone.”

I grin as we exit the hospital wing and step into a lift. “Everyone is wearing one. It’s turned into a fashion icon.” 

He grimaces. “They did the same after I won. I wanted to grab all of the fakes and throw them into a fire.”

I rest my hand over his, the one holding the pin. I look into his eyes and give him a sweet smile. “But only this one is lucky.”

*

The lift stops at a familiar floor. The same floor I stayed at before I was put into the arena. The room looks exactly the same. Bright lights, glass table and beautiful chandelier. As I step onto the plush carpet, I’m surrounded by cheers. 

I’m immediately engulfed into two sets of arms. One tanned set and one dyed blue. I laugh as Genesis and Jenova spin me around. 

“Stop,” I grin. “I’m getting dizzy.”

  
“Oh Tifa,” Jenova says, dabbing away at tears. “I’m so happy to see you again. I’m so proud. You were so brave.”

“I knew you were special,” Genesis beams. “I told everyone that they would do right by backing you. You won a lot of people a lot of money.”

I smile and take in everyone's proud faces. Cloud, Genesis and Jenova. I can even see Johnny the Avox standing by the wall, a reserved smile on his face. But one person is missing. This room is one person down. There shouldn’t be five people here, there should be six. We’re missing one boy. A boy with dark skin and brown eyes and a kind face. A boy who always had a nice word to say to me and under normal circumstances, would never harm a fly. A boy who was murdered by Midgar. 

Before my team can see my tears, I excuse myself, telling them I’m in need of a good shower. I hear Jenova ask Cloud about what dress I’ll be wearing tomorrow as I shut my door. 

I lean against it and take in deep breaths. I cover my face with my hands and try to push the tears back into my eye sockets, but they flow freely. I slide down to the floor and wrap my arms around my legs, burying my face into my knees. 

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be the one everyone is cheering for. Rude should be in this spot. His name should be one the people chant. His family should be the ones excited for his return. I’m too tainted by what I’ve done. No one will look at me in the same way again.

I’m no longer Tifa Lockhart, the girl who hunts for meat and sells them to the needy. I’m now Nibelheim’s third ever Victor of the Hunger Games, a girl who won by bashing another human's skull into bloody pieces. 

I stare at my trembling hands. I know they’re clean, I can see that they are, but all I can visualize is Scarlet's blood running between my fingers. I can clearly remember the feel of flesh and hair under my fingernails. I make it to the bathroom just in time, my stomach unable to hold any of its contents. 

On autopilot, I flush the toilet and strip. I barely feel the warmth of the shower as water cascades down my body. I take this time to check myself over. Pale, smooth and flawless skin, all of my scars are gone, even the ones gained over my many years of hunting. Nails filed and cleaned to perfection. Aside from my head, I’m completely hairless, where I was told my beauty team did some work on me while I was unconscious in my hospital bed. I grit my teeth as I remember Cloud telling me that he stopped them giving me fake breast implants and lip filler. My polished to perfection body is no longer mine. It now belongs to Midgar to do whatever they want with. Like a doll or a puppet. After my outburst, President Shinra will keep tight hold of my strings.

I finish up and go to the wardrobe to pick out a set of clean clothes. My eyes hone in on one outfit in particular. The white and gold coming of age dress. It’s still here. I carefully take it out and hold it against my body. Once upon a time, I wished I could bring this back home with me, but that wish was squashed when immediate death became a reality. But here I am, back in this room with this dress in my arms, home only a few days away. 

I don’t even ask if I can take it, I just fold it up and put it into a bag Jenova has left in my room. I consider putting more clothes in it, even if it’s just to hand out to other poor Nibelheim citizens. but I don’t want anything. If it has been provided by Midgar, then I don’t want it and neither will my fellow townspeople. 

“Dinners here,” Jenova's voice behind the door says. “We’ve been provided with a real feast. Hurry up before those boys take everything.”

  
“Coming,” I call back with a sigh. I don’t even feel hungry but I guess I have to show my face.

The table is covered in all kinds of meats, soups, vegetables and bread. A small roasted chocobo takes pride of place in the middle of it. There’s a dumbapple in its beak and whoever roasted it must have had a sense of humour as there is an arrow sticking out of the apple. I sit and grab the arrow and take a bite out of the purple fruit. Crunchy and sweet and I don’t say a word when Jenova comments about there being perfectly usable cutlery available.

“Any ideas on what you’re going to say during your interview tomorrow?” Genesis asks as he carves slices from the chocobo. 

I shrug. “No, but I guess you’re going to tell me.”

“Not exactly,” he smiles. “I’m just going to tell you to be yourself. Keep your cool and pretend that you’re super happy that you won. You’re going to be asked a lot of tough questions so it won’t do well if you don’t give positive answers.”

“It’s only for a few hours,” Cloud adds. “And then it’ll be over.”

I nod. I just want everything over and done with and to go home. But until then, I’ll play along. I’ll act like the perfect little Victor who loves both the Games and Midgar. I tap my fingers impatiently on the table as I turn to my mentor. “What am I wearing? More gold?”

“Something pretty but subdued,” he replies. “The interview isn’t anything nice so I doubt you’d want to be super glammed up for it. And after almost two weeks of seeing you covered in dirt and blood, anything you wear will look spectacular in comparison.”

“Good,” I grumble. “I can’t be bothered wearing anything flashy. I’d rather go out naked.”

  
“I can sort that out for you,” Cloud smirks. “I’ll try and find a pair of matching heels.”

*

When Cloud said subdued, he meant subdued. The dress is full length and floaty. The top half is a pure white, the straps so thin they cut into my shoulders, the chest low cut enough to show off a lot of breast. My waist down is black, the skirt part lighty ruffled. My hair is up in a plaited bun, a silver and diamond tiara on my head. My heels and jewellery are the same colour as my eyes, and on my chest is a Fenrir pin replica. 

Genesis went and got us all one to wear for the interview, but I refused to wear the real pin. Cloud hates the fakes so I insisted that I’d take the fake instead of him. The replicas are not as nice as the real one. The one Cloud has is made of real gold and was designed with real care and attention, the fakes are just gold coloured cheap metal, the wolf head poorly made. And even if the fakes looked exactly like the real one, I still would be able to tell them apart just by weighing them. The real pin is a lot heavier. 

My team and I are backstage, waiting to be called on. From here I can hear the crowd cheering and screaming. Jenova looks very elegant in a long and sparkly silver dress, her grey hair left down and straight. Aside from her blue skin, she could pass as a normal human being. I’m so used to seeing her in crazy outfits, that seeing her in something simple is a nice change. 

Genesis is in red and black leather. His shirt and trousers are skin tight and covered in belts and his red jacket trails to the floor. Along with the thigh high boots, it’s very bondage. 

Clouds colouration matches me. Black trousers, red boots and a white shirt, the first couple of buttons undone enough to see a fair bit of chest. I make sure I look him straight in the eye when I talk to him, I don’t want him to see my sight wander. 

The crowd suddenly roars louder and I turn to the screen and see Lazard step out, as bright as one of the overhead lights in a diamond encrusted gold suit. His slicked back hair is dyed an even brighter shade of blond and I can see that diamonds have even been weaved into it. The only normal part of his costume are his glasses. 

He’s doing a marvelous job working the crowd up, making them yell, laugh and stamp their feet. One by one, we’ll be called out to have a chat with Lazard. Jenova, Genesis and Cloud will probably have ten minutes each and then I’ll be last, having a full three hour interview. My skin sweats at the mere thought of talking for so long. 

Jenova squeals as her name is announced. She quickly adjusts her dress and then she leaves the room. She’s greeted with a nice round of applause. Her dress shimmers under the lights as she takes a seat opposite Lazard. Jenova is a natural at this. She makes the audience fall in love with her with her enthusiasm and ditzyness. She and Lazard gush over all of my past beautiful outfits and he compliments her for her time management. After ten minutes, she gives the people a wave then struts off, exiting the stage on the other side. 

“I don’t even know why they want to talk to me,” Genesis grumbles as he stands in front of a mirror and adjusts his jacket. “I wasn’t even your mentor.”

“Stop pretending that you’re not loving this,” Cloud says, rolling his eyes. “You’d take any chance you get in front of the cameras. I hope he asks you about your head dive off the stage during the reaping.”

Genesis huffs as his name is called. “That’s something you’d do best to forget happened. I want that picture you drew of it burned.”

  
“I’ll make sure to frame it,” Cloud yells after him as he leaves.

I chuckle. “I want a copy of that drawing.”

Cloud hums. “Maybe I’ll mass produce it. I’ll make a fortune.”

I chuckle and watch the screen. The crowd screams as Genesis appears on stage and blows kisses at the crowd. Someone even throws a bunch of red roses at him, which he catches with grace. 

Genesis’s talk with Lazard is short. There’s not much you can ask someone when they were not directly involved. Genesis takes credit for getting Rude and I those cookies but other than that, they mostly talk about each other's suits. They even strut across the stage like models, laughing when they pose at the same time. I can tell that Genesis is having the time of his life. 

The crowd shouts their disapproval when Genesis’s time is over. They cheer him off the stage and then Cloud is called. He gives me one last lingering look as he leaves.    
The people go ballistic as Cloud comes into view. I don’t even need to have the volume on the television on to hear that most of the screams are from young women. I feel annoyed about that and I don’t know why.

“Cloud,” Lazard grins as they shake hands. “Last time you were on this stage, you were half your current height.”

Clouds laugh is joined by the crowd. “Nah, I think you’ve just gotten shorter.”

I watch with awe as the blond transforms on that stage. He laughs, jokes and looks so comfortable out there. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was almost having  _ fun _ . But I know he’s not happy up there. He hates everything to do with the Games and Midgar. I can tell how angry he really is by how tense his jaw is. And I can’t be the only one to see sadness in his eyes. 

Once Cloud is done, his exit followed by high pitched girly screams, the lights on stage turn dark and my picture lights up the screens behind the chairs. The cheers are deafening before my name is even said. Like during my first interview, I blindly step out onto the stage and head in the direction I think Lazard is. There must be over a thousand people seated and millions are watching on their television screens. 

Lazard holds his hand out to me and I take it, his fingers soft and warm. He kisses the air at the side of my cheeks and guides me to sit down. I try not to slump in the chair and I tell myself to breathe. Once this is over, I can go home. Back to Denzel, my father and Reno.

“Tifa,” Lazard grins as the cheering lowers. “You look dazzling.”

“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile. “But no more than you. There must be a million diamonds on that suit.”

He lets out a bellowing laugh. “Three hundred and ninety four exactly,” he claims. “So Tifa. How does it feel being the winner of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games?”

I bite my tongue and think about what I’m going to say. I can’t blurt out what I’m really thinking. “It feels amazing,” I lie smoothly. “I’ve never felt better.”

“I never doubted you for a second,” Lazard grins. “The moment you got eighteen during your evaluation, I knew you were going to win. But the other tributes didn’t make it easy.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, my mind going back to the time I was chased up a tree. “They were tough competition.”

“How about we take a look?” 

A screen at the base of the stage lights up and I watch in horrid fascination as a birds eye view shows all twenty-four tributes rise up into the meadow. The screen quickly flitters between all of our faces. There’s a mixture of fear, wonder and determination. I see myself looking around and I can pinpoint the exact moment I locked eyes with Rude. When the claxon goes off, I’m the last one off my platform. I wince when I watch Scarlet throw a knife at me and it cuts through the top of my ear. The next shot is me up that tree, Elena failing to shoot me with arrows. I watch closely as the next scene is Rude shouting at me when I was under the influence of Tracker Jacker venom. From an outside perspective, it looks comical as I blabber on about something brown. Then the screen goes black.

“Tell me,” Lazard says. “Who did you class as your biggest threat?”

“Everyone,” I tell him. “But I was scared of Scarlet the most. She really didn’t like me.”

  
He smirks. “We’ll get to Scarlet a little later. Moving on from enemies and onto friends. We all loved that moment you teamed up with little Marlene. It was so honest and heartwarming. Why did you team up with her?”

“Because she helped me,” I answer. I knew they were going to bring up Marlene. I steeled myself for it. But my heart aches when I think of her. The last memory I have of her is her dying in my arms. “And she reminded me of my younger brother.”

The screen goes on again and plays the moment I teamed up with the Corel girl. She looks so tiny and frail. But she’s quick on her feet and smart. I watch the moment we acted on our plan to destroy the Careers supplies. The camera follows Marlene as she goes to every pile of twigs and grass we built and uses the Materia to light them up. But when she gets to the last one, she barely has time to light it before she runs off because seconds later, Scarlet and Heidegger appear. She runs for about an hour and then she’s caught in the net trap. She tries burning her way out but it does nothing. Then it fast forwards to when I turn up and cut her free. The video stops as the camera shows Palmer lifting up his spear.

Lazard pats my shaking hands. “How did it feel at that moment? When you got her out of that net?”

“Relieved that she was still alive,” I whisper. I feel tears in the corner of my eyes and I angrily wipe them away. “But that didn’t last long.”

“Let's remind ourselves of what happened next.”

  
“No,” I sob, but no one hears me as the video continues. I shut my eyes the moment the spear hits its small target, but I hear the impact. I hear myself telling Marlene it’s going to be OK and then I start singing. I sing along to the song in a breathy whisper. 

When I open my eyes, I hear that I’m not the only one crying. The crowd has gone silent apart from the sobs and wails that fill the studio. How dare they!

“Why are you all upset?” I scowl before I can stop myself. “This is what you wanted. You can’t cry over the death of a child when moments before you were screaming for her blood.”

I mentally slap myself when I hear gasps and then mutters as they chatter amongst themselves. Lazard tries his hardest to get the crowd back in high spirits. 

“We have to get to the best part,” he says in a loud voice. “You and a certain boy.” My heart flutters as the screen behind me shows a picture of Rude. The crowd immediately brightens up and it’s like my comment didn’t even happen. “You made many of us believe that true love can really happen.”

The screen shows every interaction I had with Rude. The editing is done so well it’s like I’m watching a full length romance film, where Rude starts off as the sappy boy in love with a girl that doesn’t see him. Then the girl notices him and falls for him back. Then the heartstopping betrayal as he teams with her mortal enemies and then the heroic rescue. It continues with the girl saving the boy and their heated moments of passion. Then the climax as the boy dies in her arms as she wails at the sky.

I don’t dare comment as the audience cries. I on the other hand am numb. I don’t know what to say or what to think. They’ve painted the Games as a tragic love story, where the people are actors and not real children. Even Rude’s death looks film worthy dramatic. But Rude won’t be coming out and accepting an award for best actor. He won’t be making a big speech. Because of Midgar, Rude won’t say another word again. 

“We all could see how much you loved each other,” Lazard says. “You must be heartbroken.”

I nod stiffly. “I loved him.” Even after Rudes death and out of the arena, I still have my part to play in Genesis's love act. The audience awws and Lazard pretends to wipe away tears. 

The next two hours are filled with me commenting on my every action in the arena. There’s laughter when I describe my hallucinations and cheers when they show me killing Palmer. But I can’t watch when they show me and Scarlet at the end. I look over the screen but I can still see the movement of my hands coming down on Scarlet's face. The audience flinches in synchronicity with each crushing blow. Then the last cannon goes and my victory is announced but they don’t play my angry outburst. The last ten minutes of the interview is a quick montage of all twenty three deaths.

I watch intently when it’s just Rude, Scarlet, Heidegger (I refuse to call him Piggy now) and me left. The Junon duo had hid inside the cornucopia, probably taking inspiration from Red during the feast. They watch Rude and I run into the meadow and Scarlet whispers about them both jumping us when we’re not looking. But when Scarlet gives the signal to pounce, she doesn’t follow. She instead watches the fight and no emotion flashes over her face as Heidegger dies. My guess is that she wanted Heidegger to die, confident she could take both Rude and I together. She didn’t want to share the win. She wanted to be the sole survivor.

I continue to watch the video as she slowly approaches as Rude and I talk about who will die and who will go back home. Scarlet has the spear in hand and the moment she throws it, with the intention of skewering us both, I bend to pick up the sword and luckily for me, the spear goes over my head and into Rudes chest. Then it flashes forward to the killing blow I gave Scarlet. 

The final image is of me with a dead Rude in my arms.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give a huge round of applause for your Hunger Games Victor! From Nibelheim! Tifa Lockhart!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone notices that I slipped in a little Harry Potter joke/reference in there haha.


	20. Chapter 20

The cheers and chants of my name follow me off the stage where I’m immediately wrapped up in three separate pairs of arms. I don’t know who I cling to, but whoever it is, I bury my face in their chest. I refuse to let tears flow, even though they brim at the corners of my eyes. I’ve done enough crying, enough to fill a lifetime. 

“You did fine,” Genesis says, and from the vibrations against my head, it’s him who I’m leaning on. “Apart from that one little slip up, you did great.”

“Lazard saved me on that,” I mumble, untangling myself from all of their holds. “I didn’t mean to call the audience out like that. But them crying and acting like they were sad. It just annoyed me.”

“Just another weird and fucked up thing Midgar does,” Cloud shrugs.

A crew member enters the room and escorts us to the elevator and as the doors are shutting, I hear the crowd scream and shout with joy as Lazard ends the show. Exhausted, I let out a lungful of air I didn’t know I was holding and lean my back against the wall. Finally it’s over. Finally I can go back home. Just one more night in this horrid city and then I’ll be back on the train heading to Nibelheim. 

I can’t wait to see my family again. I can already feel Denzel in my arms as I squeeze his tiny body. The happy clap on my shoulder from my dad, a smile on his face. I can even envision Reno’s face as he makes some kind of snide remark or joke. I wonder how much of the Games he actually watched, since he usually goes hunting whenever the Games are televised. But because two of his close friends were in that arena, he’s either watched every second of it or none at all. I find myself hoping for the latter. 

Once we arrive on our floor, I go straight to my room and rip the dress off of my body and crumple it to the ground. To many people, it’s a very beautiful dress but to me, I see the ugliness of humans in every stitch. I resist stamping on it as I change into something normal. The table is set with a few bits of food as I enter the main room. Again I notice that we’re still down one person. Genesis is not in the room, but I know the missing person is not him.

Needing fresh air, I go to the roof where I find the auburn haired man. He’s gazing at the scenery, bright purple dumbapple in his hand. Even the apple takes me back to the arena, where I used a bag of them to set off the explosives and the giant boom that had ruptured one of my eardrums. By some miracle of science or medicine, Midgar repaired the burst eardrum whilst I was unconscious. 

“Fancy some company or do you and your apple want to be alone?” I ask, not in the mood for pleasantries. 

“This roof is big enough for us both, I think,” he smirks. 

“You did a good job,” I tell him as I stand by his side. “With teaching Rude.”

He blinks and stares at me for a few moments, confusion written all over his face. “Teaching Rude what?”

I roll my eyes. “How to act,” I snap. “Even _I_ fell for his boy in love act, and I knew it was an act.”

Genesis growls. “That wasn’t an act.”

I can’t help the snort of laughter that comes from the back of my throat. “There’s no cameras around, you can tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the damn truth,” he insists. “Not one thing Rude said to you was an act. Look, I’ll be straight with you, Tifa. Yes, I was training Rude up to win, but when he accidentally confessed to me about his crush on you, I figured I could work that to my advantage and possibly get you both out, the same way Zack and Aerith did.”

I’m stunned by the confession. Rude  _ wasn’t  _ lying when he said that he loved me? It wasn’t just a ploy to get sponsors to send us stuff? But Rude and I barely knew one another. The only interaction we had before the reaping was when he tossed me that bread. And even then, no words were passed between us. 

My stomach lurches as I hear the truth. I had just assumed Rude was acting for the cameras, and when more and more tributes died and the chance of getting home seemed possible, I had decided to go along with the act too. I told him that he was dear to me. I had risked my own life for his and even tried to sacrifice myself so he could be crowned the Victor. And the kisses. So many kisses. Where Rude was being honest, I was being deceitful, using his emotions and feelings for my own gain. I feel sick.

But the plan to get us both out would only have worked if we both had survived to the end and threatened a double suicide, just like Zack and Aerith had. I know the rule change about both tributes from the same place both winning was a lie, but what was Genesis hoping would happen if Rude and I were the last two? Despite the smiles and joy, my guess he hoped Rude was standing here and not me.

“Why did it matter to you to get us both out?” I ask. “You’ve been a mentor for years and seen countless tributes that you’ve mentored die. Why were Rude and I any different?”

He turns away from me and doesn’t answer. Anger flares in me and my fingers twitch to do something, possibly slam his head into the electrified forcefield. But these hands have done enough damage. They’re already drenched in the blood of too many people. I turn to leave, but Genesis momentarily pauses my exit. 

“One positive thing to note. Rude died believing that the girl he loved, genuinely loved him back.”

*

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jenova sobs as I hop onto the train that will take me home. She’s in a puffy black mourning dress and even has a hat with a veil covering her face. Dramatic as ever. “I’ll come and see you before next year's reaping. Hopefully I’ll get to see you before you make your worldwide Victors tour.”

I smile. Despite Jenova being an oblivious airhead, I’ve come to really like her. She’s clueless about anything outside Midgar, but she means no harm. It’s almost endearing. “I’m missing you already,” I quip as she kisses my cheek.

“Don’t say that,” she sobs. “Midgar is going to be so dull without you around.”

  
“You’ve never said anything nice like that to  _ me _ ,” Cloud says as he comes up behind Jenova, my single bag in his hand. He gives a quick whistle as a warning before he throws it at me. I catch it before it hits me in the face.

Jenova scowls. “That’s because you're so rude and bad mannered. Honestly, throwing stuff at a lady. The least you could have done is carry it onto the train for her. Really, men these days.”

“Yeah, we’re all gross pricks, I know. You tell us all the time,” Cloud smiles. “Give me a hug at least.”

Jenova softens instantly and melts in the blonds arms. The exchange is brief as Genesis plows through them and pushes past me. “Until I next see you Jenny, I don’t intend to remain sober,” he says, and that's when I notice a bottle of alcohol in his hand. “I’ll see you next year.”

I watch Genesis as he leaves, going through a new compartment and not looking back at us. Jenova tuts. “I can’t wait to see him again,” she mutters with sarcasm. 

“Take care of yourself,” Cloud tells her as he gives her a quick kiss on the cheek, making her blush slightly. “Don’t get up to too much fun without us. Don’t do what I would.”

  
“That means she can’t do anything,” I joke as he jumps onto the train. He only laughs.

“Until next time,” Jenova smiles, giving me one last hug before the door slides shut. We blow each other kisses as the train begins to move. I don’t leave the window until she’s fully out of sight. 

Cloud is lounging on a chair when I find him, his head thrown back and his eyes gently shut. On his lap sits his notepad. With ease, I swifty swipe it, making his eyes shoot open. “Hey!”

“What else have you been drawing?” I grin.

He looks worried and nervous as I skim through the drawings. He tries to grab the pad back the further I get, but I dodge him in time to spot a new doodle. My eyes widen and I want to throw the pad out of the window. It’s a rough sketch but I can already see what it is. I can’t seem to stop looking at the drawing of me covered in blood, crouched with the sword in my hand and a spear through Rude’s chest. I flick through some of the other newer drawings and there’s at least four of them. All pictures of me in the arena. Me with a dying Marlene. Another where I’m up a tree, halfway through sawing the branch that has a hive on it. One where I’m passed out and Marlene is tending to my wounds. Rude and I in the cave, our lips melting together. 

I toss the pad back at him with a mixture of disgust and anger. “I thought you said you only draw beautiful things?”

“I didn’t say  _ only _ ,” he replies with a soft voice. He sighs and runs his hand through his spikes. “I’ll burn them if you want. I only drew them because drawing helps me through the bad moments. It’s how I cope. In a messed up way, drawing the bad stuff helps me get over them.”

“Rude and I kissing was a bad moment?” I ask. 

He flushes. “I don't know yet.”

With a groan, I flop onto a chair opposite him and throw my head back. “Keep them if you want.” I mumble. “As long as I never see them again, I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

  
“They obviously disturb you,” he says. My head flies to him as I hear a ripping sound. I watch silently as he tears out the drawings and crumples them into a ball. Despite the pictures being of horrible scenes, I feel guilty that he’s destroying something he’s worked hard on, just because it disgusts me. I feel oddly touched.

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

He shrugs. “I’ll make sure to only sketch the good stuff from now on. Stay still for a second.”

I do as his eyes quickly take me in. I must look a mess with my unwashed hair and my limbs sprawled out in all directions. But I don’t care if he draws me like this. 

He quickly makes a simple outline and closes the pad. “How many of me have you drawn now?” I wonder.

He lets out a nervous chuckle. “Too many. I promise I’m not stalking you or obsessed. I just find you fascinating to draw. I even did a few rough sketches of you that would match what nickname Midgar decides to give you.”

I let out a loud sigh. I totally forgot that every Victor gets a stupid nickname. Usually one that matches what we did in the Games or relates to how we won. I dread hearing what I’ll forever be known as. “What’s the damage?”

  
“They said a few things but haven’t come to a consensus yet,” he replies. “They’ll make up their minds before you’re next in front of a camera. The Nurse. The Martyr. The Pummeller. Heck, even Girl on Fire.”

I understand why I’ve been labeled all of them. I wouldn’t mind Nurse or Martyr but Pummeller takes me back to what I did to Scarlet and Girl on Fire gives me phantom burns on my leg. I let out a fake giggle. “Much better than The Wolf Pup.”

Cloud’s face scrunches up with disgust. “I hate that name. I’ll be eighty and they’ll still be calling me Pup. It’s bad enough hearing it from people older than me let alone people younger.”

  
“It’s cute,” I smile, my lips getting wider when I notice his cheeks turn pink. “It matches.”

“S-shut up,” he stammers, ducking his head so I can’t see his face. 

I decide to goad him some more because it’s the only kind of fun I can have. “Have you kept that wolf jacket? You looked  _ adorable  _ in it.”

“No,” he grunts, suddenly getting to his feet and fast walking to his room. “Go away.”

I laugh as I closely follow. He sighs when he turns to slam the door only to find that I’m already in the room. “Come on,” I smirk. “You must have it somewhere around here.”

I hop over to the wardrobe but Cloud yanks me back so hard, I tumble backwards and threaten to slam to the carpeted floor. But at the last moment, Cloud wraps his arms around me and skillfully directs us to the bed. I crash into the mattress with a groan. My eyes fly open and the air is sucked out of my lungs. He’s right on top of me, our legs tangled together and our lips almost touching. I can see every freckle on his pale skin and every tiny little hair on his chin. 

“Uuhh,” I come out with, not knowing what to say. What  _ do  _ you say when an attractive member of the opposite sex is straddled on top of you on a bed? 

I gulp as his face gets nearer and I automatically close my eyes, but all he does is hide his face in the crook of my neck. I feel myself shiver as his breath ghosts over my skin. My whole body has turned into jelly, too weak to do anything but lay here and not move a muscle. Cloud could do whatever he wanted to me, and I wouldn’t have the strength to stop him. And the most curious thing is that if he did do something, I wouldn’t want to stop him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his lips so close to my neck I can  _ feel _ him talking. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”

“It’s fine,” I say, dazed. “I shouldn’t have barged into your room or attempt to go through your belongings.”

Cloud shifts and he’s looking deep into my eyes. He smirks. “I actually do still have that jacket. Jenova saved it from the bin.”

“I knew it,” I chuckle. “All of Nibelheim deserves to see it.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, playing with a loose strand of my hair. “Going back a Victor and not just a normal girl?”

I stop to ponder that myself. I think I’m feeling almost every emotion a human can possess. Happiness at being alive. Excitement and nervousness at seeing my loved ones again. Even a little bit of jealousy. Jealous that others can go to sleep without dreaming of kids dying in their arms or someone else dead because of their actions. 

“Everything,” I answer, my eyes watching the fingers that are playing with my hair. “I can’t wait to see Denzel and Reno again. I also want to visit Rude’s family. I don’t know what I can say or do but I feel I have to at least see them. If anyone is as heartbroken about his death more than me, it’ll be them.”

Cloud hums thoughtfully. “Rude was a lucky man to have you.”

  
I quickly shake my head. “I cared for Rude a lot. Maybe even have a soft spot for him. And he’ll always have a place in my heart. But I didn’t  _ love  _ him. I did what I had to do to survive.”

Cloud drops my hair and stares at me. “Then Reno is the lucky one.”

“Reno?” I laugh nervously. “He’s like a brother to me. We don’t see each other like that. Why so interested about the boys in my life? If you wanted to ask if I’m single, then ask.”

  
The last part was in jest and I figured Cloud would understand it for the joke it was, but his face turns serious. “ _ Are  _ you single?”

I feel my face flush. His eyes are so blue and intense that I want to look away, but I can’t. I take in his whole face. I’m once again struck over how handsome he is. Without even knowing what I’m doing, I reach up and slowly lace my fingers through his hair. I’m surprised that the spikes are soft under my fingertips and not, well,  _ spiky _ . 

“I’m single,” I whisper.

I don’t fight as his lips find mine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and for the wonderful support, I’m so grateful. For anyone wondering, I will be writing the sequel but I don’t know when I’ll start posting. I’ll probably post the first chapter when I’m over halfway through writing the whole thing, so that way there will be regular updates. So maybe between July-September if I had to wildly guess.  
> Also I’m thinking of writing a sidestory about Cloud’s Hunger Games once I’m done with the whole trilogy, so if that’s something you may be interested in reading, then let me know.  
> Until next time and again, thank you - Kezababez


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